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THE WINDERMERE SERIES 


Hans Andersen’s 

II 

Fairy Tales 


TRANSLATED BY 

VALDEMAR PAULSEN 

> 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

MILO WINTER 

I 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 


CHICAGO 


NEW YORK 


Copyright. iqi6. 

By Rand McNally & Co. 





ti 


Tke Rakd-McNally Press 
Chicago 



C-20 




...< 






THE CONTENTS 

PAGE 

016 Luk6i6 9 

Thumbelina 24 

The Snail and the Rosebush 39 

The Steadfast Tin Soldier 42 

The Wild Swans 48 

The Ugly Duckling 69 

A Real Princess 82 

The Tinder-Box 84 

The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep 93 

Little Ida’s Flowers 100 

The Emperor’s New Clothes no 

The Snow Queen 117 

The Flying Trunk 158 

The Fellow Traveler 166 

The Nightingale 191 

The Beetle 204 

Whatever the Old Man Does Is Always Right 214 

The Darning Needle 221 

Fortune’s Overshoes 226 

The Bronze Boar 260 

The Happy Family 275 

The Bell 280 


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THE ILLUSTRATIONS 

He was swallowed up by a great fish Frontispiece 

PACINO PAGH 

Come into my warm room and dine with me'' 32 

The swan laid his head in her lap and she stroked its white wings . 56 

The poor Dtickling was scofied at by the whole yard . . . . 72 

The Queen made a lovely little bag 88 

She wrapped the white coat round him 128 

He arrived in the land of the Turks 160 

The Nightingale sang so enchantingly that the tears came into 

the Emperor's eyes 200 

The Watchman traveled to the moon 240 

There stood Bellissima 264 


7 



ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


OLE LUKOIE 

No one in the whole world knows so many stories 
as Ole Lnkoie! He certainly can tell stories! 

Along in the evening when little children are sitting 
properly at the table or on their little chairs, 016 Lukoie 
arrives. He comes up the stairs noiselessly, for he 
walks in his stocking feet. He opens the door very 
softly and— whisk! he sprays sweet milk in the chil- 
dren’s eyes. Just a very little, but enough so that 
they cannot keep their eyes open and thus get a glimpse 
of him. Then he tiptoes up behind them and blows 
softly on the back of their necks; and their heads 
become oh, so heavy! 

X But it does not hurt, oh, no! for Ole Lukoie is fond of 
the children and means to do them good. He just wants 
them to be quiet, and knows that they are best of all 
when they have been put to bed. They must be quiet 
so that he can tell them his stories. 

Now when the children are asleep, Ole Lukoie seats 
himself on the bed. He is nicely dressed. His coat 
is of silk, but it is impossible to tell what color it is, for 
it shines green, red, and blue, just as he happens to turn. 
Under each arm he holds an umbrella, and one of them 
has pictures on it. This one he places over the good 
children and then they dream the pleasantest stories all 
night long. The other umbrella has nothing at all on 
it, and this one he places over the naughty children. 


9 


10 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


who then sleep stupidly, and, when they awake in the 
morning, have not dreamed the least bit. 

Now we shall hear how 016 Luk6i6, every evening 
for one whole week, came to a little boy whose name 
was Hjalmar, and what he told him! There are no less 
than seven stories, for there are seven days in a week. 

MONDAY 

‘‘Look here!” said 016 Luk6i6 the first evening, after 
he had got Hjalmar to bed. “Now I am going to dec- 
orate your room! ” and immediately all the flowers in the 
flower pots became great trees, their branches extending 
out under the ceiling and along the walls so that the whole 
room looked like the most beautiful arbor. All the 
branches were full of flowers, and every flower was 
prettier than a rose, and smelled very sweet. If anyone 
tried to eat a flower, it tasted sweeter than jam. There 
were fruits, gleaming like gold, and there were cakes, 
bursting with raisins. It was all very, very beautiful. 
But just then came a terrible wailing from the table 
drawer where Hjalmar’s school books lay. 

“Now what is that!” said 016 Lukoi6, going over to 
the table and opening the drawer. It was the slate, 
which had a terrible cramp, for a wrong number had got 
into the example in arithmetic, and it was about to fall 
to pieces. The slate pencil hopped and jumped at the 
end of the string with which it was tied, just as if it had 
been a little dog. It wanted to help the example but 
it could not! 

Then from Hjalmar’s copybook, too, came a wailing 
that was really awful to listen to! Down the side of 
every page stood all the large letters, each with a small 


ol6 lukCi^ 


11 


one by its side, a whole row up and down. It was the 
copy, and beside it stood some letters that thought 
they looked like it — letters Hjalmar had written. But 
they lay almost as if they had stumbled and fallen over 
the pencil line on which they should have been standing. 

‘'Look, this is the position you ought to take!'' said 
the Copy. “See, slanting this way, with a brisk, even 
swing!" 

“Oh, we should like to," said Hjalmar’s letters, “but 
we cannot, we are too poorly!" 

“Then you must take a pill!" said Ole Lukoie. 

“Oh, no!" they cried, and immediately stood up so 
straight and strong that it was a pleasure to look at 
them. 

“There, no story telling for us to-night!" said 016 
Luk6i6. “Now I will have to exercise them! One, two! 
One, two!" and forthwith he put the letters through 
their exercises. They stood up straight and firm and 
as healthy as any copy could stand. But when 016 
Luk6i6 went away, and Hjalmar looked at them in the 
morning, they were just as weak and miserable as ever. 

TUESDAY 

As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, 016 Luk6i6 sprayed 
all the pieces of furniture in the room with his little 
magic atomizer, and immediately they all began to talk. 
Each talked about himself, with the exception of the 
cuspidor, which stood silent and inwardly vexed that 
they could be so vain as to talk only of themselves and 
think only of themselves, without the slightest thought 
for him who stood so modestly in the comer and let 
himself be spit upon. 


12 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Over the dresser hung a large painting in a gilded 
frame. It was a landscape, in which were tall old trees, 
flowers growing in the grass, a large body of water, and 
a river which flowed arotmd behind the forest, past many 
castles, and far out into the stormy ocean. 

Ole Lukoi6 touched the painting with his magic 
atomizer and immediately the birds in the trees began 
to sing, the branches swayed, and the clouds moved 
along swiftly. One could see their shadows glide over 
the landscape. 

Ole Lukoi6 now lifted little Hjalmar up to the frame, 
and the boy put his feet into the picture, right into the 
high grass; and there he stood! The sun shone down 
on him through the branches of the trees. He ran to 
the water and seated himself in a little boat which lay 
there. It was painted red and white, the sails gleamed 
like silver, and six swans, each with a golden circlet 
around its neck and a shining blue star on its head, drew 
the boat past the green forests, where the trees told 
about robbers and witches, and the flowers whispered 
about the lovely little elves and what the butterflies 
had told them. 

The most wonderful fish, with scales like silver and 
gold, swam after the boat. Sometimes they made a 
leap, falling back with a splash into the water. Birds, 
red and blue, small and large, flew along behind the 
boat in two long rows! The gnats danced and the 
beetles said “Boom! boom!” They all wanted to 
follow Hjalmar, and each one had a story to tell. 

That certainly was a pleasure trip! Sometimes the 
forest was very thick and dark; sometimes it was like 
the most glorious gard^, full of sunshine and flowers. 


13 


OLE LUKOIE, 

There were great palaces of glass and of marble, and on 
the balconies stood princesses. These were all little 
girls that Hjalmar knew very well; he had often played 
with them. They held out their hands, each offering 
the loveliest sugar heart that any cake woman could 
sell, and Hjalmar grasped one end of each heart as he 
sailed by. The princess kept tight hold of her end of 
the heart and so each of them got a piece, she the smaller 
and Hjalmar much the larger. At each palace, little 
princes stood sentry. They shouldered golden swords, 
and by their orders raisins and tin soldiers were showered 
down. They certainly were real princes! 

Now Hjalmar sailed through forests, now through 
great reception rooms, or through the center of a town. 
He passed through the town where his nurse lived, she 
who had carried him in her arms when he was a very 
little boy, and had been so fond of him. She nodded 
and beckoned to him, and sang the pretty little verse 
she had made up herself and sent to Hjalmar. 

I’ve loved thee, and kissed thee, Hjalmar, dear boy; 

I’ve watched thee waking and sleeping; 

May the good Lord guard thee in sorrow, in joy, 

And have thee in His keeping. 

All the birds sang with her, the flowers danced on their 
stems, and the old trees nodded just as if 016 Lukoi6 
were telling stories to them, too. 

WEDNESDAY 

My, how the rain poured down outside! Hjalmar 
could hear it in his sleep! and when 016 Lukoi6 opened 
a window the water stood even with the sill. A whole 
sea of water billowed outside the window, and the 


14 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

most splendid ship imaginable lay close by the house. 

Do you want to go sailing with me, little Hjalmar? ” 
said 016 Lukoie. “You can visit foreign lands to-night 
and be back again by morning!” 

And in a moment there stood Hjalmar, dressed in 
his Simday clothes, right in the middle of the gallant 
ship. The weather immediately became fine, and the 
ship sailed away through the streets, steered around 
the church, and then everything was one great wild 
ocean. 016 Lukoi6 and the little boy sailed on until 
the land was no longer to be seen. They saw a fiock 
of storks that also came from home and were traveling 
toward the warm countries. The storks fiew in a row, 
one behind the other, and they had already traveled 
far, very far. One of them was so tired that his wings 
could hardly carry him any longer. He was the very 
last in the row and soon he was left a long way behind. 
At last he sank, with outspread wings, lower and lower. 
He made a few more strokes, but it was of no use. Now 
he touched the rigging of the ship with his feet, now 
he slid down the sail and — btunp! there he stood on 
the deck. 

The cabin boy took him and put him in the hen house 
with the chickens, ducks, and turkeys. The poor stork 
stood there among them quite disheartened. 

“Just look at that!” said all the chickens. 

The turkey cock puffed himself up as much as he 
could and asked who the stranger was. The ducks 
walked backward and nudged each other. “Qua-ack! 
qua-ack!” said they. 

Then the stork told about warm Africa, about the 
pyramids, and about the ostrich which ran like a wild 


OLE LUKOIE 


15 

horse over the desert. But the ducks did not understand 
what he said and so they nudged one another. 

'‘Shall we all agree that he is stupid? 

"Of course he is stupid!" said the turkey cock; and 
then he gobbled loudly. But the stork now remained 
silent and thought of his Africa. 

"Those are a couple of fine thin legs you have!" 
said the turkey. "How much a yard?" 

"Quack! quack! qua-ack!" snickered all the ducks; 
but the stork pretended not to hear. 

"You might just as well laugh, too," said the turkey 
cock, ' ‘ for that was very wittily said ! Or was it, perhaps, 
too low for you? Alas, alas, he has no sense of humor! 
But let us continue to be interesting among ourselves." 

Then he gobbled, the hens clucked, and the ducks 
quacked, "Gick! gack! gick! gack!" It was surprising 
how amusing it was to them. 

But Hjalmar walked over to the hen house, opened 
the door, and called to the stork, which stepped out 
on the deck. It was now quite rested and seemed to 
nod to Hjalmar as if to thank him. Then it spread its 
wings and flew away to the warm lands, while the chickens 
clucked, the ducks quacked, and the turkey cock’s whole 
head grew fiery red. 

"To-morrow we shall make soup of you," said 
Hjalmar, and just then he awoke and found himself 
lying in his little bed. It had certainly been a wonderful 
journey 016 Lukoi6 had permitted him to take that night! 

THURSDAY 

"What do you think!" said 016 Lukoi6. "Now 
don’t be frightened! Look, here is a little mouse!" 


i6 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


And he held out his hand toward Hjalmar, with the 
pretty, tiny creature in it. ^'It has come to invite you 
to a wedding. There are two little mice who want to 
enter the marriage state to-night. They live under your 
mother’s pantry floor, and that is said to be a lovely 
place!” 

”But how can I get through the little mouse hole 
in the floor?” asked Hjalmar. 

'‘Leave that to me!” said 016 Lukoie. “I will make 
you small without any trouble!” Then he touched him 
with the magic atomizer and he immediately became 
smaller and smaller, until at last he was not so big as a 
Anger. ‘‘Now you can borrow the Tin Soldier’s clothes. 
I think they will fit, and it looks smart to be in uniform 
when in company.” 

‘‘Of course!” said Hjalmar, and the next moment 
there he was, dressed like the most spick and span of 
tin soldiers. 

‘‘Will you please be seated in your mother’s thimble? ” 
asked the little mouse. ‘‘Then I shall have the honor 
of drawing you!” 

‘‘Will the young lady really take the trouble!” said 
Hjalmar; and so away they rode to the mouse wedding. 
First they entered a long passage under the floor, which 
was barely high enough for them to ride through in the 
thimble. The whole passageway was illuminated with 
rotten wood. 

‘‘Is there not a delicious odor here?” asked the mouse 
that was pulling Hjalmar along. ‘‘The whole passage 
has been greased with bacon rinds! Nothing could be 
more delightful!” 

Now they entered the room where the wedding was 


ol6 lukoi^ 


17 


to take place. Here, to the right, stood all the little 
lady mice, whispering and giggling just as if they were 
making fim of each other. To the left stood all the gen- 
tlemen mice stroking their whiskers with their forepaws. 
But in the middle of the floor were seen the bridal couple, 
standing in a hollow cheese rind and kissing each other 
constantly, right before everybody, for, you see, they 
were engaged and were now to be married. 

More and more guests kept coming, so many that 
they were about to tread each other to death. Besides, 
the bridal couple had stationed themselves in the middle 
of the doorway, so that one could neither get in nor 
out. The whole room, like the passageway, had been 
greased with bacon rinds, and that was the entire 
banquet. For dessert, however, a pea was shown 
about, in which a little mouse of the family had bit- 
ten the name of the happy pair, that is, the first letter 
of the name. This was something quite above the 
ordinary. 

At the close of the evening the mice all said it was a 
lovely wedding and that the conversation had been most 
entertaining. 

Then Hjalmar drove home again. He certainly had 
been in grand company. But then, you see, he had also 
been obliged to make himself very small, and to put on 
a tin soldier’s uniform. 

FRIDAY 

is imbelievable how many older people there are 
who would like to get hold of me!” said 016 Luk6i6, 
‘^especially those who have done something wrong. 
‘Good little 016,’ they say to me, ‘we cannot close our 
2 


i8 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


eyes and so we lie all night long and see our evil deeds, 
sitting like ugly goblins on the edge of the bed and throw- 
ing hot water over us. Won't you please come and drive 
them away so we can get a good night’s sleep?' and then 
they draw a deep sigh. 'We would really be glad to 
pay for it. Good night, 016! You will find the money 
on the window sill!' 

"But I never do it for money," added Ole Lukoi6. 

"What shall we do to-night?" asked Hjalmar. 

"Well, I do not know whether you care to go to a 
wedding again to-night. It is a different kind of a 
wedding from yesterday's. Your sister's largest doll, 
the one that looks like a man and is called Herman, is 
to be married to the doll Bertha. Besides it is the dolls' 
birthday and so they will receive many, many presents." 

"Yes, I know all about that!" replied Hjalmar. 
"Whenever the dolls need new clothes, my sister always 
lets them celebrate a birthday or a wedding! That 
has already happened at least a hundred times!" 

"Yes, but to-night is the hundred and first wedding, 
and when one hundred and one has struck, all is over! 
That is why this one will be so splendid. Just look 
there!" 

Hjalmar looked toward the table. There stood the 
little cardboard house with lights in the windows, and 
all the tin soldiers presenting arms outside. The bridal 
couple sat on the floor, leaning against the table leg. 
They were quite thoughtful, and perhaps with good 
reason. However, 016 Luk6i6, dressed in grandmother's 
black skirt, read the marriage service. When the cere- 
mony was over, all the pieces of furniture in the room 
struck up the following beautiful song, written by the 


OLE LUKOIE 


19 

pencil. It was sung to a melody somewhat like the 
soldiers’ tattoo: 

Let the song swell like the rushing wind, 

In honor of those who this day are joined 
Although they stand here so stiff and blind, 

Because they have both a leathery rind. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! though they’re deaf and blind, 

Let the song swell like the rushing wind. 

After the song, the pair received the presents, but 
they had declined to accept eatables of any kind for 
they intended to live on love. 

Shall we go to the cotmtry, or shall we travel 
abroad?” asked the bridegroom. 

The swallow, who was a great traveler, and the old 
hen, who had hatched out five broods of chicks, were 
consulted. The swallow told about the lovely warm 
lands where the grapes hung in great heavy bunches, 
where the air is so mild and the mountains glow with 
colors unknown here! 

‘‘But our kale does not grow there!” said the hen. 
“ I stayed in the country one summer with all my chicks. 
There was a sand hole near by in which we could walk 
about and scratch, and we also had entry to a garden 
in which kale grew! Oh, how green it was! I cannot 
imagine anything more beautiful!” 

‘‘But one stalk of kale looks just like every other,” 
said the swallow. ‘ ‘ And then the weather is often bad ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, but one is used to that!” said the hen. 

“But it gets cold and it freezes in this country!” 

“That makes the kale better!” said the hen. “Be- 
sides, it gets very warm here, too! Did we not have a 
summer, foiu* years ago, which lasted five weeks? It 
was so hot one could hardly breathe! Then we have 


20 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


not all the wild and poisonous creatures that infest 
those warm coimtries of yours, and we are free from 
robbers. He is a good-for-nothing who does not con- 
sider our coimtry the most beautiful — he certainly does 
not deserve to be here!” The hen was so agitated that 
she wept. have traveled, too. I rode in a coop 
about twelve miles, and I must say there is no pleasure 
at all in traveling!” 

‘^Yes, the hen is a sensible woman!” said the doll 
Bertha. do not care to travel among the mountains, 
for there is nothing but ups and downs, ups and downs. 
No, no, we will move out to the sandpit, and walk about 
in the cabbage garden.” 

And so it was settled. 

SATURDAY 

‘‘Am I to hear some stories now?” asked little Hjal- 
mar, as soon as 016 Luk6i6 had got him to bed. 

“This evening we have no time for that,” replied 
016 Lukoi6, as he spread his finest umbrella over him. 
“Just look at these Chinamen!” 

The whole umbrella looked like a great Chinese bowl 
with blue trees and pointed bridges on which stood little 
Chinamen nodding their heads. 

“We must have the whole world prettily polished up 
for to-morrow,” said 016, “for to-morrow is a holiday; 
to-morrow is Simday. I must go to the church steeple 
to see that the little church sprites polish the bells, to 
make them sound sweetly, and I must go out into the 
field to see if the breezes are blowing the dust from the 
grass and leaves; and, the most important work of all, 
I must have all the stars down to polish them! I take 


OLE LUKOIE 


21 


them in my apron. But first each one must be numbered, 
and the holes in which they are set up there must be 
numbered, that they may be put back in the right places 
again; otherwise they woxild not sit tight, and we should 
have too many shooting stars, as one after the other 
came tumbling down.’* 

*‘Now look here, Mr. 016 Lukoi6,” said an old por- 
trait which hung upon the wall of the bedroom where 
Hjalmar slept, “I am Hjalmar’s great-grandfather! I 
thank you for telling the boy stories, but you must not 
confuse his ideas. The stars couldn’t be taken down and 
polished! The stars are world-orbs, just like our own 
earth, and that is the good thing about them!” 

”I thank you, old great-grandfather,” said 016 
Lukoi6, ”I thank you! You are the head of the family; 
you are the ancestral head. But I am older than you! 
I am an ancient heathen; the Romans and Greeks called 
me the Dream God! I have been in the noblest houses, 
and am admitted there still! I know how to act when 
in company with big or little ! N ow tell your own story ! ’ ’ 
And away went 016 Luk6i6, taking his umbrella with 
him. 

”Well, well! One may not even give one’s opinion 
nowadays!” said the old portrait. 

And then Hjalmar awoke. 

SUNDAY 

”Good evening!” said 016 Luk6i6. Hjalmar nodded, 
and then ran and turned his great-grandfather’s portrait 
to the wall, that it might not join the conversation as 
it had yesterday. 

”Now you must tell me stories — about the 'five 


22 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


green peas that lived in one pod,’ about the 'cock’s foot 
that paid court to the hen’s foot,’ and about the ' darning- 
needle who put on such airs that she thought herself 
a sewing needle!’ ” 

" But one can get too much of a good thing! ” said Ole 
Lukoie. "You know that I prefer showing you things! 
I will show you my own brother. His name, like mine, 
is 016 Lukoie, but he never comes to anyone more than 
once. When he does come he takes people upon his 
horse, and tells them stories. He knows but two. One 
of these is so exceedingly beautiful that no one in the 
world can even imagine it, and the other so dreadful 
and awful that it cannot be described!” 

Then Ole Lukoie lifted Hjalmar up to the window, 
and said, "There you see my brother, the other Ole 
Lukoie. They also call him Death! See, he does not 
seem so terrible as they make him appear in the picture- 
books, where he is nothing but bones and joints! That 
is silver embroidery on his cloak; that is a splendid 
hussar’s uniform! A mantle of black velvet flies behind 
him over the horse! See how he gallops along!” 

And Hjalmar saw how that other 016 Liik6i6 rode 
along, taking yoimg people as well as old upon his horse. 
Some he placed in front of him, and some behind. But 
first he always asked, "What is the condition of your 
report book?” 

"Fine,” they all replied. 

"Yes, but let me see it myself,” he said. 

Then each one had to show him the book. Those 
who had "good” and "very good” and "excellent” 
written in their books were placed in front of him on 
the horse, and the lovely story was told to them; but 


OLE LUKOIE 


23 


those who had ‘‘middling'' or “tolerably well," had to 
sit up behind and hear the very terrible story. They 
trembled and wept and wanted to jump oflE the horse, 
but this they could not do, for they had all, as it were, 
grown fast to it. 

“But Death is a most splendid 016 Lukoi6!" said 
Hjalmar. “I am not afraid of him!" 

“Nor need you be," replied Ole Lukoi6, “but see 
that you have good marks in your report book!" 

“Now, that is certainly instructive!" muttered the 
great-grandfather's portrait. “It does do some good to 
give one's opinion, anyhow." And thereupon he was 
quite content. 

There, now you have heard the story of 016 Luk6i6! 
This evening he can tell you some more himself! 


THUMBELINA 


There was once a woman who wished very much 
for a little tiny child. But she did not know where she 
could get one, and so she went to an old witch. 

“I would so love to have a little child!*' she said to 
the witch. * * Will you please tell me where I can get one ? * * 
yes, that can easily be managed,” said the witch. 
“Here is a barleycorn; but it is not at all the kind that 
grows in the farmer's field, or is fed to the chickens. 
Plant it in a flowerpot, and see what happens!'' 

“Thank you,'' said the woman, and she gave the 
witch twelve bright shillings. 

Then she went home and planted the barleycorn, 
and immediately up sprang a great, beautiful flower 
which looked exactly like a tulip; but the petals were 
tightly closed, as though the flower were still a bud. 

“That is a lovely flower,'* said the woman; and 
she kissed its beautiful red and yellow cup. Just as she 
kissed it the flower opened with a loud pop! It was a 
real tulip, as one could see; but in the middle of the 
flower upon the green stamens sat a tiny little maiden, 
wonderfully delicate and beautiful. She was not over 
half a thumb's length in height, and so she was called 
Thumbelina. 

She was given a beautifully polished walnut-shell 
for a cradle, with blue violet-leaves for mattresses, and 
a rose-leaf for a coverlet. There she slept at night; 
but in the daytime she played about on the table, where 
the woman had set a plate with a wreath of flowers all 
around it, their stalks standing in water. On the water 


24 


THUMBELINA 


25 


in this plate floated a great tulip-leaf, and on this the 
little maiden could sail from one side of the plate to 
the other. She had two white horse hairs with which 
to row, and a very pretty sight it all made, indeed! She 
could sing also, and so delicately and sweetly that nothing 
like it had ever before been heard in this world. 

One night, as she lay in her pretty bed, an old Toad 
came hopping in through the window, where a pane 
had been broken out. The Toad was very ugly, big, 
and damp, and it hopped right down on the table where 
Thumbelina lay sleeping under the red rose-leaf. 

“That would be a lovely wife for my son!“ said the 
Toad, and without more ado she seized the walnut-shell 
in which Thumbelina slept, and hopped away with it 
through the broken window-pane down into the garden. 

There flowed a great, broad brook; the ground at 
the edge of the water was swampy and soft, and here 
lived the Toad and her son. Ugh! he was ugly and 
repulsive; he looked just like his mother. 

“Croak! croak! brek-ke-ke-kex!“ That was all he 
could say when he saw the pretty little maiden in the 
walnut-shell.^ 

“Don't talk so loud, or she will wake up!" said the 
old Toad. “She could run away from us yet, for she 
is as light as a bit of swan's-down! We must put her 
out in the brook on one of the broad water-lily leaves. 
It will seem just like an island to her, she is so small and 
light. Then she cannot run away while we are getting 
the parlor in order imder the soft mud, where you two 
are to keep house together." 

Out in the brook grew many water-lilies. Their 
broad green leaves looked as if they were floating on top 


26 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


of the water. The leaf farthest out in the brook was 
the largest. So the old Toad swam out and on it laid 
the walnut-shell with Thxunbelina still asleep. 

Early in the morning the poor little maid awoke, 
and when she saw where she was she began to cry bit- 
terly, for there was water on all sides of the great green 
leaf, and she could not get to land. 

The old Toad sat in the marsh, decking out her room 
with marsh grasses and yellow weeds — it was to be 
made very pretty for the new daughter-in-law; then she 
swam out, with her ugly son, to the leaf where Thum- 
belina stood. They had come to fetch her pretty bed, 
which was to be placed in the bridal chamber before she 
herself entered it. The old Toad bowed low in the water 
before her and said: 

‘‘This is my son; he is to be your husband, and you 
shall live splendidly together down in the mud.” 

‘‘Croak! croak! brek-ke-ke-kex!” was all the son 
could say. 

Then they took the dainty little bed and swam away 
with it, leaving Thumbelina all alone on the great leaf. 
She wept, for she did not want to live with the nasty 
Toad or have her ugly son for a husband. The little 
fishes swimming in the water below had seen the Toad 
and heard what she had said; so they put their heads 
out of the water, for they wanted to get a look at the 
little girl. When they saw how wonderfully pretty she 
was^ they felt very sorry that she should have to go down 
to live with the ugly Toad. No, that must never be! 
They crowded round the green stalk which held the leaf 
on which the little maiden stood, and gnawed it off with 
their teeth. Away floated the leaf, far down the stream, 


THUMBELINA 


27 

with Thiimbelina — far away, where the Toad could not 
get her. 

Thnmbelina sailed on and on; the little birds that 
sat in the bushes saw her, and sang, What a lovely little 
maiden!’' Farther and farther floated the leaf, and thus 
out of the country traveled Thumbelina. 

A beautiful little white Butterfly kept fluttering round 
her, and at last alighted on the leaf, for it liked Thumbe- 
lina very much; she, too, was pleased and happy, for now 
the Toad could not get her, and everything was so beauti- 
ful about her as she floated along. The sim shone upon 
the water, which glistened like the brightest gold. Then 
she took her girdle and bound one end of it roimd the 
Butterfly, fastening the other end of the ribbon to the 
leaf. The leaf now glided onward much faster, and 
Thumbelina, too, for she was standing on the leaf, you 
know. 

Just then a big Beetle came flying along; he saw her 
and immediately clasped his claw round her slender 
waist, and flew with her up into a tree. The green leaf 
went floating away down the brook, and the Butterfly 
with it, for you know he was fastened to the leaf, and 
could not get loose. 

My! how frightened poor little Thumbelina was 
when the Beetle carried her off into the tree! But she 
was most sorry for the beautiful white Butterfly that 
she had boimd to the leaf; if he could not free himself, 
he would have to starve to death. The Beetle, however, 
did not trouble himself at all about that. He seated 
himself with her on the biggest green leaf of the tree, 
gave her the honey of flowers to eat, and declared that 
she was very pretty, though she did not in the least 


28 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


resemble a Beetle. Later, all the other Beetles who 
lived in the tree came to pay a visit. They looked at 
Thumbelina, and all the young lady Beetles shrugged 
their shoulders. 

'‘Why,” they said, "she has only two legs! What a 
wretched appearance!” 

"She has no feelers!” they cried. 

"Her waist is quite slender — fie! she looks just like 
a human being — how ugly she is!” said all the lady 
Beetles. 

And yet Thumbelina was so very, very pretty. That, 
too, was the opinion of the Beetle who had fotmd and 
seized her. But when all the others declared she was 
ugly, he, too, believed it at last, and would not have her 
at all — she might go where she pleased. 

They fiew down from the tree with her, and set her 
upon a daisy, and she wept because she was so ugly 
that the Beetles would not have her. And yet she was 
the loveliest little being one could imagine, and as fine 
and delicate as a rose-leaf. 

All the summer through poor Thumbelina lived quite 
alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed out 
of blades of grass, and hung it under a large burdock 
leaf, which protected her from the rain; she gathered 
the honey from the fiowers for food, and drank of the 
dew which every morning lay on the leaves. 

Thus summer and autumn passed. But now came 
winter, the cold, long winter. All the birds that had 
sung for her so sweetly flew away; trees and flowers lost 
their leaves; the great leaf imder which she had lived 
shriveled up, and nothing remained of it but a withered 
stalk. She was dreadfully cold, for her clothes were 


THUMBELINA 


29 

tom and she herself was so frail and delicate. Poor 
little Thtimbelina! She would surely freeze to death. 

Now it began to snow, and every snowflake that fell 
upon her was like a whole shovelful thrown upon one 
of us, for we are tall, and she was only an inch long. 
Then she wrapped herself in a withered leaf, but it would 
not warm her and she shivered with the cold. 

Close to the wood where the Beetle had left her lay 
a great comfleld; but the com had long since been cut 
and only the naked dry stubble stood up out of the frozen 
groimd. To her it seemed just like wandering through 
a great forest; and, oh! how she trembled with cold. 
Then she came to the door of the Field Mouse, a little 
hole imder the stubble. There, warm and comfortable, 
the Field Mouse lived, with a whole roomful of com, 
a glorious kitchen, and a pantry. Poor Thumbelina 
stood at the door just like a poor beggar girl, and asked 
for a tiny piece of barleycorn, for she had not had the 
smallest morsel to eat for two whole days. 

''You poor little creature,'' said the Field Mouse — 
for after all she was a good old Field Mouse — "come 
into my warm room and dine with me." 

She was much pleased with Thumbelina. 

"If you like," she said, "you may stay with me 
through the winter, but you must keep my room clean 
and neat, and tell me stories, for of them I am very 
fond." 

So Thumbelina did as the kind old Field Mouse bade 
her, and lived very comfortably and well. 

"I am expecting a visit very soon," said the Field 
Mouse one day. " My neighbor is in the habit of coming 
to see me once a week. He is even better off than I am, 


30 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


has great rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvety 
fur coat. If you could only get him for a husband you 
would be well off. But he cannot see. You must tell 
him the prettiest stories you know.” 

Thumbelina, however, did not care about this; she 
thought nothing of the neighbor, for he was a Mole. 
He came and paid his visits in his black velvet coat. 
The Field Mouse told how rich and how learned he was, 
and how his house was more than twenty times larger 
than hers; he possessed great learning, but did not like 
the sun and beautiful flowers, for he had never seen them. 

Thumbelina had to sing, and she sang both '‘Lady- 
bird, ladybird, fly away home,” and ‘‘When the parson 
goes a-field.” The Mole fell in love with her, because 
of her beautiful voice; but he said nothing, so sedate 
was he. 

A short time before, the Mole had dug a long passage 
in the ground from his own house to theirs, and Thum- 
belina and the Field Mouse received permission to walk 
here whenever they pleased. But he begged them not 
to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage. It 
was a real bird with wings and beak. It certainly must 
have died only a short time before, and was now buried 
just where the Mole had made his tunnel. 

The Mole took a bit of decayed wood in his mouth, 
for, you see, it glimmers like Are in the dark, and walked 
ahead, lighting them through the long, dark passage. 
When they came to where the dead bird lay, the Mole 
thrust his nose against the ceiling and made a great 
hole through which the daylight could shine. In the 
middle of the floor lay a dead Swallow, his beautiful 
wings pressed close against his sides, and his head and 


THUMBELINA 


31 


feet drawn in under his feathers; the poor bird had cer- 
tainly died of cold. Thumbelina was so very sorry for 
him! She was very fond of all the little birds; they had 
simg and twittered so prettily for her all through the 
summer. But the Mole gave it a push with his short 
legs, and said, '‘Now he doesn’t squeak any more. It 
must be miserable to be bom a little bird. I ’m thankful 
that can happen to none of my children; such a bird 
has nothing but his ‘twee-tweet,’ and has to starve in 
the winter!” 

“Yes, as a clever man you may well say that,” 
observed the Field Mouse. “Of what use is all this 
‘twee-tweet’ to a bird when the winter comes? He 
must starve and freeze. But they say that’s very 
aristocratic!” 

Thumbelina said nothing; but when the two others 
turned their backs to the bird, she bent down, put aside 
the feathers which covered its head, and kissed the closed 
eyes. 

“Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily to me last 
summer,” she thought. “How much pleasure he gave 
me, the dear, beautiful bird!” 

The Mole now closed up the hole through which the 
daylight shone, and accompanied the ladies home. But 
during the night Thumbelina could not sleep ; so she got 
out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet out of hay. 
This she carried down and spread over the dead bird, 
and laid soft cotton, which she had found in the Field 
Mouse’s room, aroimd him, so that he might lie soft 
and warm in the cold grotmd. 

“Farewell, you pretty little bird!” said she. “Fare- 
well! and thanks to you for your beautifxil song last 


32 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


summer when all the trees were green and the sun shone 
warm upon us.’' Then she laid her head on the bird’s 
breast. 

As she did so she was frightened, for it seemed as if 
something was knocking inside there. It was the bird’s 
heart. He was not dead; he was only numb with the 
cold. Now he had been warmed, and had come to life 
again. 

In autumn all the swallows fly away to the warm 
countries; but if one happens to be belated, it gets so 
cold that it drops down as if dead, lies where it falls, 
and is covered by the cold snow. 

Thumbelina trembled exceedingly, so startled was 
she; for the bird was large, very large compared with 
her, who was only an inch in height. But she took 
courage, laid the cotton closer roimd the poor Swal- 
low, and brought a leaf that she had used as her own 
coverlet, and laid it over the bird’s head. 

The next night she crept out to him again, and 
now he was alive, but quite weak; he could only open 
his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, as she 
stood before him with a bit of decayed wood in her 
hand, for she had no lantern. 

thank you, pretty little child,” said the sick 
Swallow; ”I have been warmed. Soon my strength 
will return, and I shall be able to fly about again in the 
warm simshine.” 

”Oh!” she said, ”it is so cold outside. It is snowing 
and freezing. Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse 
you.” 

Then she brought water in the petal of a flower; 
and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had tom 


THUMBELINA 


33 


one of his wings in a thorn-bush and so had not been 
able to fly so fast as the other swallows, that were flying 
away, far away, to the warm countries. At last he had 
fallen to the groimd. He could remember nothing more, 
and did not in the least know how he had come where 
she had foimd him. 

The Swallow remained there all winter, and Thum- 
belina was good to him and loved him very much. 
Neither the Field Mouse nor the Mole got to know a 
thing about him, for they did not like the poor Swallow. 
As soon as spring came, and the sun warmed down into 
the earth, the Swallow said good-by to Thumbelina. 
She had opened the hole which the Mole had made in 
the ceiling, and the sun shone brightly in upon them. 
The Swallow asked if Thumbelina did not want to go 
with him; she could sit on his back, and they would 
fly far away into the greenwood. But Thumbelina knew 
that the old Field Mouse would be grieved if she left 
her thus. 

''No, I cannot!'’ said Thumbelina. 

"Farewell then, farewell, you dear, sweet girl!" said 
the bird as he flew out into the simshine. Thtmibelina 
stood looking after him and the tears came into her 
eyes, for she was very fond of the poor Swallow. 

"Twee-tweet! twee-tweet !” sang he, and flew away 
into the green forest. 

Thumbelina was very sad. She was not permitted 
to get out into the warm simshine. The com which 
was sown in the field over the house of the Field Mouse 
grew high into the air. It was like a great thick forest 
for the poor little girl who, you know, was only an inch 
in height. 

3 


34 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


*^You must get your wedding outfit made this stun- 
mer, Thtunbelina," said the Field Mouse. You see, 
their neighbor, the tiresome Mole in the fur coat, had 
courted her. You must have woolen and linen clothes 
both! You must lack nothing when you become the 
Mole's wife!" 

Thumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the Mole 
hired four spiders to spin and weave for her day and 
night. Every evening he paid her a visit; and was con- 
stantly saying that when the summer was over, the sun 
would not shine nearly so hot; now it burned the earth 
as hard as a stone. Yes, when the stunmer was over, 
then he would wed Thiunbelina. But she was not at 
all happy, for she did not like the tiresome Mole in the 
black fur coat. Every morning when the sun rose, and 
every evening when it set, she crept out to the door; and 
when the wind blew the tops of the corn stalks apart, 
so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright 
and beautiful it was out there, and wished heartily 
she could see her dear Swallow again. But he would 
never come back, she thought. He was doubtless flying 
far away in the fair green forest. 

When autumn came Thumbelina had her whole 
wedding outfit ready. 

"In four weeks you are to be married," said the Field 
Mouse to her. But Thumbelina wept, and declared 
she would not have the tiresome Mole. 

"Nonsense!" said the Field Mouse. "Don't be 
obstinate, or I will bite you with my white teeth. Why, 
it is a lovely man you are getting. The queen herself 
has nothing like his black velvet furs; and his kitchen 
and cellar are full. Be thankful for your good fortune." 


THUMBELINA 


35 


Now came the day the wedding was to take place. 
The Mole had already come to fetch Thiimbelina; she 
was to live with him, deep under the earth, and never 
come out into the warm stmshine. He did not like the 
sunshine, you know. The poor child was very sorrowful; 
she was now to say good-by to the glorious sun, which, 
after all, she had been allowed by the Field Mouse to 
look at from the threshold of the door. 

''Farewell, thou bright sun!” she said, stretching 
out her arms toward it, and walking out a little way 
from the house of the Field Mouse. The com had now 
been reaped, and only the dry stubble remained in the 
fields. "Farewell!” she repeated, and fltmg her arms 
roimd a little red flower which bloomed there. "Greet 
the little Swallow from me, if you see him again.” 

"Twee-tweet! twee-tweet!” a voice suddenly soimded 
over her head. She looked up and there was the little 
Swallow just flying by. He was very happy to see Thum- 
belina. Then she told him how unwilling she was to 
have the ugly Mole for her husband, and that she would 
have to live deep under the earth, where the sun never 
shone. And she could not keep from weeping as she 
told it. 

"The cold weather is coming,” said the Swallow, 
"and I am going to fly away to the warm cotmtries. 
Will you come with me? You can sit on my back! 
Just tie yourself fast with your girdle, and then we 
shall fly away from the ugly Mole and his dark room, 
far away, over the mountains to the warm cotmtries, 
where the sun shines brighter than it does here; where 
it is always summer and lovely flowers always bloom. 
Do fly with me, dear little Thumbelina, you who saved 


36 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


my life when I lay frozen in the dark underground 
passage.” 

”Yes, I will go with you!” said . Thumbelina. She 
seated herself on the bird’s back, with her feet on his 
outspread wings, and tied her girdle fast to one of his 
strongest feathers. Then the Swallow flew high in the 
air, over forests and over seas, high up over the great 
moimtains where the snow always lies; and Thumbelina 
felt cold in the bleak air. But then she crept under the 
bird’s warm feathers, and only stuck out her little head 
to admire all the wonders below her. 

Then they arrived in the warm countries. There 
the sim shone far brighter than in the cold North; the 
sky seemed twice as high; and in the ditches and on the 
hedges grew the most beautiful blue and green grapes. 
In the woods hung lemons and oranges; and the air was 
fragrant with myrtle and balsams. On the roads the 
loveliest children ran about, playing with great bright- 
colored butterflies. But the Swallow flew still farther, 
and it became more and more beautiful. Under some 
of the most majestic green trees by the blue sea stood 
an ancient palace of dazzling white marble. Vines 
clustered aroimd the lofty pillars; at the very top were 
many swallows’ nests, and in one of these lived the 
Swallow who carried Thumbelina. 

“Here is my house,” said the Swallow; “now select 
for yourself one of the pretty flowers which grow down 
yonder, and I will set you down on it. There you shall 
have everything just as you wish.” 

“That is lovely!” she cried, and clapped her little 
hands. 

A great marble pillar was lying on the ground broken 


THUMBELINA 


37 


into three pieces; between these pieces grew the most 
beautiful large white flowers. The Swallow flew down 
with Thumbelina and set her on one of the broad petals. 
But what was the little maid’s siuprise! There in the 
midst of the flower sat a little man, as white and trans- 
parent as if he had been made of glass. He wore the 
most beautiful of golden crowns on his head, and the 
loveliest wings on. his shoulders; and he was no bigger 
than Thumbelina. He was the angel of the flower. 
In each of the flowers dwelt such a little man or woman, 
but this one was king over them all. 

“My! how beautiful he is!” whispered Thumbelina 
to the Swallow. 

The little Prince was very much frightened at sight 
of the Swallow, for it was quite a giant beside him, who 
was so small. But when he saw Thiimbelina, he was 
very glad. She was the very prettiest maiden he had 
ever seen, and so he took his golden crown from his 
head and placed it on hers, asked her name, and if she 
would be his wife; then she should be Queen of all the 
flowers. Now this was truly a different kind of man 
from the son of the Toad, and the Mole with the black 
velvet fur. So she said “Yes” to the charming Prince. 
And out of every flower came a lady or gentleman, so 
dainty that they were a delight to behold. Each one 
brought Thumbelina a present; and the best gift of all 
was a pair of beautiful wings which had belonged to a 
great white fly. These were fastened to Thumbelina’s 
back, and now she also could fly from flower to flower. 
Then there was great rejoicing, and the little Swallow 
sat up above in his nest and sang for them, as well as 
he could. Yet in his heart he was sad, for he was so 


38 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


fond, so fond of Thnmbelina, and would have liked never 
to part from her. 

'‘You should not be called Thumbelina,” said the 
Flower Angel to her; “that is an ugly name, and you 
are so beautiful. We will call you Maia.” 

“Good-by, good-by,” said the little Swallow as he 
set out on his return to the northern lands. There in 
Denmark above the window of the room where lives the 
man who knows how to tell stories, he had a little nest. 
To this man the Swallow sang “twee-tweet, twee-tweet ! ” 
and that is how we got the whole story. 


THE SNAIL AND THE ROSEBUSH 


Aroimd a garden was a hedge of hazel bushes, and 
beyond that were broad fields and meadows with cows 
and sheep. But in the middle of the garden stood a 
Rosebush in bloom, and under it lay a Snail, who thought 
he had a great deal within him, since he had himself. 

''Wait till my time comes,'’ he said; "I shall accom- 
plish something more than to yield roses, or to bear 
hazel nuts, or to give milk as the cows and sheep do." 

"I expect a great deal from you," said the Rosebush. 
"May I ask, when it will appear?" 

"I shall take my time about it," said the Snail. 
"But you are always in such great haste! And that 
never arouses curiosity or suspense as to what to expect." 

The following year the Snail lay in about the same 
spot in the sunshine imder the Rosebush, which put forth 
its buds and unfolded its fiowers, always fresh, always 
new. And the Snail crept half out of its shell, stretched 
out its feelers, and then drew them back again. 

"Everything looks just as it did last year. There 
has been no progress anywhere. The Rosebush keeps 
to its roses, and beyond that it will never get!" 

The summer passed, the autumn passed, and the 
Rosebush yielded roses and buds steadily until the first 
snow fell. The weather became cold and raw; the Rose- 
bush bent down toward the ground, and the Snail crept 
into the earth. Then a new year commenced; the roses 
bloomed anew, and the Snail came forth. 

"You are an old Rosebush now," it said. "It is 
about time you were withering away. You have given 


39 


40 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


the world all that was in you. Whether that has been 
of any importance or not, is a question I have no time 
to think about. But one thing is plainly evident, you 
have not done the least for your own development; 
otherwise something very different would have come of 
you. Can you say anything in your own defense? You 
will soon be nothing more than a bare stick! Can you 
understand what I am saying?” 

“You terrify me,” said the Rosebush. “I had never 
thought of that.” 

“No; it seems that you have never been much given 
to thinking! Have you never discovered or explained to 
yourself why you blossomed, and in what way the blos- 
soming came about? Just so, and not in some other way? ” 

“No!” said the Rosebush. “I bloomed in gladness, 
for I could not do otherwise, the sun was so warm and 
the air so refreshing. I drank of the clear dew, and of 
the heavy rain; I breathed, I lived! From the ground 
a strength rose up within me, from above a strength came 
down to me. I felt a happiness, always new, always 
great, and therefore I always had to put forth buds and 
flowers. That was my life. I could not do otherwise!” 

“You have led a very easy life,” said the Snail. 

“Yes, you are right. Everything was given to me,” 
said the Rosebush; “but still more was given to you! 
You are one of those deep, meditative natures, one of 
the highly gifted that will astonish the world.” 

“I have no such design at all,” said the Snail. “The 
world is nothing to me! I have enough to do with my- 
self, and I have enough in myself.” 

“But should not all of us here on earth give to others 
the best that is in us, bring what we can? Yes, it is 


THE SNAIL AND THE ROSEBUSH 


41 


true, I have given only roses! But you? You, who 
received so much, what have you given to the world? 
What will you give to it?^* 

''What have I given? What will I give? I spit 
upon it! It is worthless! It is nothing to me! Bear 
your roses; beyond that you cannot go! Let the hazel 
bush bear nuts! Let the cows and sheep give miUc! 
They have each of them their public; I have mine within 
myself. I am going into myself, and there I shall stay. 
The world is nothing to me!’’ And forthwith the Snail 
went into his house, and closed it up. 

"How sad it is!’’ said the Rosebush. "However 
much I might desire it, I cannot creep into myself. I 
must always spring forth, spring forth into roses. The 
petals fall, and the wind carries them away! But I saw 
one of my roses laid in the housewife’s psalm book; one 
of my roses foimd a place on the breast of a young and 
beautiful girl, and another was kissed in joy by the lips 
of a child. It did so much good; it was a true blessing. 
That is my memory, my life!” 

And the Rosebush blossomed on in innocence, and the 
Snail idled away in his house ; the world was nothing to him. 

And years rolled by. 

The Snail was dust in the dust; the Rosebush was 
earth in the earth. The rose of remembrance in the 
psalm book had fallen to dust — but in the garden bloomed 
new rosebushes, in the garden grew other snails. They 
crept into their houses, spat contemptuously — the world 
was nothing to them. 

Shall we read the story again from the beginning? 
It will never be different. 


THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers; they 
were brothers, for they had all been cast from an old 
tin spoon. They shouldered their muskets and looked 
straight before them; and their imiforms were splendid 
in red and blue. The first thing they heard in the world, 
when the lid was taken off the box in which they lay, 
were the words “Tin Soldiers!” shouted by a little boy, 
as he clapped his hands in glee. The soldiers had been 
given to him on his birthday, and now he joyfully set 
them out on the table. Each soldier was exactly like 
every other, except one, and he had but one leg. He 
had been cast last of all, and there had not been enough 
tin to finish him, but he stood as firm on his one leg as 
the others on their two; and he is the very one that 
became remarkable. 

On the table on which the soldiers had been placed 
stood many other playthings, but the toy that attracted 
most attention was a delightful castle of cardboard. 
Through the little windows one could look straight into 
the rooms. Before the castle stood a number of little 
trees, rotmd a little looking-glass which was to represent 
a lake. Wax swans swam on this lake and were mirrored 
in it. All this was very pretty; but the prettiest of all 
was a little lady who stood in the open doorway of the 
castle. She, too, was cut out of paper, but she had a 
dress of the clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue 
ribbon, that looked like a scarf, over her shoulders; and 
in the middle of this ribbon was a shining tinsel rose as 
large as her whole face. The little lady stretched out 


42 


THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


43 


both her arms, for she was a dancer; and she lifted one 
leg so high that the Tin Soldier could not see it at all, 
and thought that, like himself, she had but one. 

'‘That would be just the wife for me!” thought he; 
"but she is very grand. She lives in a castle, while I 
have only. a box, and there are five-and-twenty of us 
about that. It is no place for her! But still I must 
try and make her acquaintance!” 

Then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box 
which stood on the table; there he could easily watch 
the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg 
without losing her balance. 

Along in the evening all the other tin soldiers were 
put into their box, and the people in the house went to 
bed. Now the toys began to play at "visiting,” and at 
' ' war, ' * and at ' ' having dances. ’ ' The tin soldiers rattled 
in their box, for they wanted to join the fun; but they 
could not lift the lid. The nutcracker threw somer- 
saults, and the pencil amused itself on the slate; there 
was so much noise that the canary awoke, and began to 
take part in the conversation, and that in verse. The 
only two who did not stir from their places were the Tin 
Soldier and the Dancing Lady; she stood straight up 
on the points of her toes, and stretched out both her 
arms; he was equally steady on his one leg; and he never 
turned his eyes away from her a single moment. 

The clock struck twelve — and, pop ! the lid flew off the 
snuff-box. There was no snuff in it. Oh, no ! but there was 
a little black Goblin. It was a Jack-in-the-box, you see. 

" Tin Soldier! ” said the Goblin. "Keep your eyes to 
yourself, will you!” 

But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear him. 


44 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


‘'Just you wait till to-morrow!” said the Goblin. 

When morning came and the children were out of 
bed, the Tin Soldier was placed in the window; and 
whether it was the Goblin or a draft that did it, all at 
once the window flew open, and the Soldier fell head 
over heels down from the third story. That was a 
terrible fall! His leg stuck straight up in the air, and 
thus he remained standing, with helmet downward and 
his bayonet between the paving-stones. 

The servant-girl and the little boy came down di- 
rectly to look for him, but though they almost trod upon 
him, they could not see him. If the Soldier had shouted, 
“Here I am!” they would surely have foimd him; but 
he did not think it fitting that a soldier dressed in full 
tmiform as he was should cry out loudly. 

It now began to rain; the drops fell faster and faster, 
and soon it was streaming down. When the shower 
was over, two street boys came by. 

“Look!” said one of them, “there lies a tin soldier. 
He must have a boat ride.” 

So they made a boat out of a newspaper, put the Tin 
Soldier in the middle of it, and away he sailed down the 
gutter. The two boys ran along beside him and clapped 
their hands. Goodness preserve us! how the waves 
rose in that gutter, and what a ciurent! You see it 
had been a very heavy shower. The paper boat rocked 
up and down, and sometimes spun round so quickly 
that the Tin Soldier trembled; but he didn’t move, 
and never changed countenance; he looked straight 
before him, holding his musket. 

All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it 
became as dark as it had been in his box. 


THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


45 


“Where am I going now?'' he thought. “Yes, yes, 
it is all the Goblin's fault! Ah! If the little lady were 
only sitting here in the boat with me, it might be twice 
as dark for all I should care." 

Just then a great Water Rat, which lived in the drain, 
came up to the boat. 

“Have you a passport?" asked the Rat. “Out 
with your passport!" 

But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and held his musket 
tighter than ever. 

The boat rushed on, and the Rat after it. My! 
how he gnashed his teeth, and shouted to the straws and 
bits of wood: 

“Stop him! Stop him! He hasn't paid toll — he 
hasn't shown his passport!" 

But the current ran faster and faster. The Tin 
Soldier coiild already see the bright daylight where the 
drain ended; but he heard a terrible roaring noise that 
was indeed enough to frighten the bravest of men. 
Just think, where the tunnel ended, the drain dropped 
into a great canal; and for him that was as dangerous 
as for us to be carried down a great waterfall. 

He was already so near it that he could not stop. 
The boat rushed out, the poor Tin Soldier stiffening 
himself as much as he could, and no one could say that 
he had as much as blinked. The boat whirled round 
three or four times, and was full of water to the very 
edge. It would surely sink. The Tin Soldier stood 
up to his neck in water, the boat sank deeper and 
deeper, the paper grew more and more limp. Then 
the water closed over the Soldier's head. He thought 
of the pretty little Dancer, and that he would never 


46 . ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

see her again; and in the Soldier’s ears rang the song: 

Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave. 

For thou must die this day ! 

Then the paper boat went to pieces, and the Tin 
Soldier fell through ; but at that moment he was 
swallowed up by a great fish. 

Oh, how dark it was! It was worse even than in 
the drain; and it was very narrow, too. But the Tin 
Soldier remained calm, and lay at ftdl length, gripping 
his musket. 

The fish rushed about, making the most fearful 
movements, and then became quite still. After a long 
time something suddenly flashed through it like a gleam 
of lightning. It was now quite light, and a voice 
exclaimed loudly, ''The Tin Soldier!” 

The fish had been caught, carried to market, and 
sold. It had been taken into the kitchen, where the cook 
had cut it open with a large knife. She seized the Soldier 
rormd the body with two fingers, and carried him into 
the living room. All were anxious to see the remarkable 
man that had traveled about inside of a fish; but the 
Tin Soldier was not at all proud. They placed him on 
the table, and there — what curious things may happen 
in this world! The Tin Soldier was in the very room 
in which he had been before! He saw the same chil- 
dren, and the same toys stood on the table; there was 
the pretty castle with the graceful little Dancer. She 
was still balancing herself on one leg, and held the other 
high in the air. She, too, remained steadfast. That 
moved the Tin Soldier; he was very near weeping tin 
tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked 
at her and she looked at him, but they said nothing. 


THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER 


47 


Just then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier 
and flung him into the stove. He gave no reason at all 
for doing this. It must have been the fault of the Goblin 
in the snuff-box. 

The Tin Soldier stood there in the bright glow, and 
felt a heat that was terrible; but whether this heat pro- 
ceeded from the real fire or from the love within him 
he did not know. His colors had vanished; but whether 
that had happened on the journey or had been caused 
by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little lady, 
she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but 
he still stood firm, shouldering his musket. Then sud- 
denly the door flew open, a draft of air caught the 
Dancer, and she flew like a sylph right into the stove 
to the Tin Soldier; she flashed up in a flame, and was gone. 
Then the Tin Soldier melted into a lump; and next day, 
when the servant-maid took out the ashes, she found 
him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the Dancer 
nothing remained except the tinsel rose, and that was 
burned as black as a coal. 


THE WILD SWANS 


Far away, there where the swallows fly in winter, 
lived a king who had eleven sons and one daughter, 
Elise. The eleven brothers, the princes, went to school 
wearing stars on their breasts and swords at their sides. 
They wrote on golden slates with diamond pencils, and 
could recite just as well by heart as they could read from 
the book. Anyone hearing them knew immediately that 
they were princes. Their sister Elise sat upon a little 
footstool made of looking-glass, and she had a picture 
book which had cost half the kingdom to buy. 

Oh, these children were very, very happy! But 
thus it was not always to be. 

Their father, who was king over all the land, married 
a wicked queen who was not at all kind to the poor 
children; they felt that on the very first day. There 
were great festivities at the castle, and the children 
played at visiting and having company. But instead 
of letting them have all the cakes and baked apples they 
could eat, as they were used to having, the queen gave 
them only some sand in a teacup, telling them they could 
make believe that it was something to eat. 

The following week she sent little Elise into the 
cotmtry to live with some peasant people, and it did not 
take her long to make the king believe so many bad 
things of the boys that he cared no more about them. 

'^You shall fiy out into the world and look after 
yourselves,” said the wicked queen; ”fiy away as great 
voiceless birds!” 

But she could not make things as bad for them as 
48 


THE WILD SWANS 


49 


she would have liked, for they turned into eleven beauti- 
ful wild swans. With strange cries they flew out of the 
palace window, away over the park and the forest. 

It was still very early in the morning when they 
reached the peasants* cottage where their sister Elise 
lay asleep. They hovered over the roof, turning and 
twisting their long necks, and flapping their wings; but 
no one heard or saw them, and they had to fly on. They 
soared up toward the clouds and far out into the wide 
world. They flew away over a great dark forest, which 
stretched to the shore of the sea. 

Poor little Elise stood in the peasants* room, playing 
with a green leaf, for she had no other toys. She made 
a little hole in the leaf and looked through it at the sun, 
and it seemed to her as if she saw her brothers* bright 
eyes. And every time the warm sunbeams shone upon 
her cheek, it reminded her of their kisses. 

The days went by, one just like the other. When the 
wind blew through the hedges outside the house, it whis- 
pered to the roses, ^'Who could be more beautiful than 
you? * * The roses shook their heads and answered, ' ‘ Elise ! ’ * 
And when the old woman sat in the doorway of a Sun- 
day reading in her psalm-book, the wind turned the 
pages and said to the book, Who could be more devout 
than you?” ‘'Elise!** answered the book. And both 
the roses and the book of psalms spoke the exact truth. 

When she was fifteen Elise had to go back home, but 
when the queen saw how pretty she was, she was filled 
with anger and hatred toward her. She would willingly 
have turned her into a wild swan, too, like her brothers, 
but she did not dare do it at once, for the king wanted 
to see his daughter. 

4 


50 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


In the early morning the queen always went to her 
bath, which was built of marble and adorned with soft 
cushions and beautiful carpets. 

There she took three toads, kissed them, and said 
to the first, ^^Sit upon Elise’s head when she comes to 
bathe, that she may become stupid and sluggish like 
you.” “Sit on her forehead,” she said to the second, 
“that she may become homely like you, so that her 
father won’t know her!” “Rest near her heart,” she 
whispered to the third. “Let an evil spirit come over 
her, that will make her suffer.” Then she put the toads 
into the clear water, which immediately took on a tinge 
of green. She called Elise, undressed her, and made 
her go into the bath. As she dipped under, one of the 
toads got into her hair, another on her forehead, and the 
third on her breast, but Elise seemed not to notice them 
at all. When she stood up three scarlet poppies floated 
on the water; had the creatines not been made poisonous 
from having been kissed by the sorceress, they would 
have been changed into crimson roses. None the less, 
flowers they became from merely having rested a moment 
on the good girl’s head and near her heart. She was too 
pure and innocent for the enchantment to have any 
power over her. 

When the wicked queen saw this, she rubbed walnut 
juice on Elise’s skin, so that she became quite brown. 
Then she smeared her face with some evil-smelling 
ointment, and tangled up her beautiful hair; it would 
have been quite impossible to recognize the pretty Elise. 

When her father saw her he was quite horrified and 
said that she could not be his daughter. Nobody would 
have anything to say to her, except the watch dog, and 


THE WILD SWANS 


5i 

the swallows, but they were poor animals whose opinion 
went for nothing. 

Poor Elise wept, and thought of her eleven brothers, 
who were all far away. She crept sadly out of the 
palace and wandered all day over fields and marshes, 
into the great forest. She did not know in the least 
where she was going but she felt very sad, and longed 
for her brothers. No doubt, they too, like herself, 
had been driven out into the world; and she made up 
her mind to seek and find them. 

She had been in the wood only a short while when 
night fell. She had quite lost her way; so she said her 
evening prayer, lay down on the soft moss, and leaned 
her head against a little stump. It was very still and 
the air was mild, and round about in the grass and on 
the moss, himdreds of glow-worms shone like green fire. 
When she touched one of the branches above her gently, 
the glowing insects fell down to her like a shower of stars. 
All night long she dreamed about her brothers. Again 
they were children playing together; they wrote upon 
golden slates with diamond pencils and looked at the 
wonderful picture book that had cost half a kingdom. 
But they no longer wrote just lines and circles on their 
slates as they used to do; no, they wrote down all their 
bravest deeds, and everything that they had seen and 
experienced. In the picture book everything was alive — 
the birds sang, and the people walked out of the book and 
spoke to Elise and her brothers. But when she turned the 
page, they immediately skipped back into their places 
so that there should be no confusion among the pictures. 

When she woke the stm was already high. It is 
true she could not see it, for the lofty forest trees spread 


52 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


their branches thick and close, but beyond, the sun- 
beams played like a shimmering veil of gold. A fragrance 
of grass and growing things was in the air, and the birds 
were almost ready to perch upon her shoulders. She 
could hear the splashing of water, for near by were many 
bubbling springs, which all flowed out into a pool with 
the loveliest sandy bottom. It was surroimded with 
thick bushes, but at one place the deer had made an 
opening, and there Elise passed through to the water’s 
edge. It was so clear, that had not the branches moved 
in the breeze, she would have believed they were painted 
on the bottom, so plainly was every leaf reflected, those 
through which the sim shone as well as those in the 
shadow. 

When she saw her own face in the water she was quite 
frightened, so brown and ugly was it; but when she wet 
her little hand and rubbed her eyes and forehead, her 
skin gleamed white again. Then she took off all her 
clothes and went into the fresh, clear water. A lovelier 
royal child than she could not have been foimd in all 
the world. 

When she had dressed again, and braided her long 
hair, she went to one of the sparkling springs and drank 
out of the hollow of her hand. Then she wandered far- 
ther into the forest, though whither she did not know. 
She thought of her brothers, and she thought of a merci- 
ful God who would not forsake her. He had made the 
wild apples to grow to feed the hungry. He showed her 
one of these trees, the branches of which were bending 
low beneath their weight of fruit. Here she made her 
midday meal. Then she placed supports under the 
heavy branches and walked on into the thickest part 


THE WILD SWANS 


53 


of the forest. It was so quiet that she heard her own 
footsteps; she heard every little withered leaf which 
bent under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen, not a 
ray of sunlight could make its way through the close, 
leafy branches. The tall trunks stood so near together 
that when she looked straight before her it seemed as 
if fences of heavy beams surroimded her on every side. 
Here was a solitude such as she had never known before. 

That night was very, very dark; not a single little 
glow-worm sparkled in the moss, and very sadly Elise 
lay down to sleep. Then it seemed to her as if the 
branches above her parted and our Lord looked down 
upon her with His loving eyes, and little angels peeped 
out from above His head and imder His arms. 

When she woke in the morning she was not sure 
whether she had dreamed this, or whether it had really 
happened. 

She began to walk, and after having gone a few steps 
met an old woman with a basketful of berries, some of 
which she gave the girl. Elise asked if she had seen 
eleven princes ride through the wood. 

*'No,’' said the old woman, ''but yesterday I saw 
eleven wild swans, with golden crowns on their heads, 
swimming down the stream not far away.*’ 

She led Elise a little farther on, to a slope, at the 
foot of which flowed a winding stream. The trees on 
either bank stretched their leafy branches over the 
stream toward one another, and wherever, from their 
natural growth, they could not reach one another, they 
had tom their roots loose from the groxmd, and leaned 
out over the water with closely interlacing branches. 

Elise said good-by to the old woman, and walked 


54 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


along by the river till it flowed out on the great open shore 
of the sea. 

The beautiful sea lay before the maiden; but not a 
single sail was to be seen on it, not a single boat. How 
was she ever to get any farther? She looked at the 
numberless little pebbles on the beach; they had all 
been worn smooth and roimd by the waves. Glass, 
iron, stone, whatever had been washed up, had been 
given its form by the water, which yet was much 
softer than her fine little hand. 

^Ht keeps on rolling tirelessly, and everything rough 
and hard it finally makes smooth and roimd. I will be 
just as untiring! Thank you for your lesson, you clear, 
rolling waves! Some time, so my heart tells me, you 
will bear me to my beloved brothers!” 

With the seaweed washed up on the shore lay eleven 
white swans’ feathers; she picked them up and tied them 
together. Drops of water lay on them, but whether 
these were dew or tears no one could have told. It 
was very lonely there by the shore. But the little maid 
did not feel it, for the sea presented endless changes — 
more in the course of a few hours than an inland fresh- 
water lake could show in a whole year. If a big black 
cloud came up, it seemed as if the sea wanted to say, 
^‘I, too, can look black”; and then the wind blew and 
the waves showed their white crests. But if the clouds 
shone red, and the wind slept, then the sea looked like 
a rose-leaf. Now it was green, now white, but no matter 
how still it lay, there was always a gentle motion at the 
shore, where the water rose and fell gently like the breast 
of a sleeping child. 

When the sun was about to sink, Elise saw eleven 


THE WILD SWANS 


55 


wild swans, with golden crowns on their heads, flying 
toward the shore. Swaying they flew, one behind the 
other. The line looked like a long white ribbon. Then 
Elise climbed up the bank and hid behind a bush; the 
swans settled close by her and flapped their great white 
wings. 

As soon as the stm sank beneath the water, the 
swans^ feathers suddenly disappeared, and there stood 
eleven handsome princes, Elise’s brothers. She gave 
a loud cry, for though they had altered greatly, she knew 
it was they — she felt that it must be they and no others ; 
and into their arms she sprang, calling them by name. 
They were too happy for words when they recognized 
their little sister who had grown so tall and beautiful. 
They laughed and cried, and soon had told each other 
about how cruel their stepmother had been toward 
them all. 

v^'We brothers,'* said the eldest, ^*fly about like wild 
swans, as long as the sun is above the horizon. When 
it goes down we regain our hiiman forms. So at sun- 
down we must always be careful to have a place to 
alight, for should we happen to be flying up among the 
clouds when the sim goes down, we should fall, in our 
human forms, to the depths below. We do not live 
here; there is another land, just as beautiful as this, 
beyond the sea; but the way to it is very long and we 
have to cross the mighty ocean to reach it. There is 
no island on our way where we can spend the night; 
only one solitary little cliff juts up out of the water, 
midway. It is but just large enough for us to rest 
upon, side by side, and if there is a heavy sea the water 
dashes over us; yet we thank God for it. There we stay 


56 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


over night in our human forms, and without it we could 
never visit otu* beloved Fatherland, for our flight takes 
two of the longest days in the year. But once a year 
may we visit the home of our fathers, and we dare stay 
here for only eleven days. We fly about over the great 
forest, whence we can catch a glimpse of the palace 
where we were bom and where our father lives, and 
beyond it the high tower of the church where our mother 
lies buried. Here we feel as if the trees and bushes 
were related to us; here the wild horses gallop over the 
moors, as we used to see them in our childhood. Here 
the charcoal burners sing the old songs we used to dance 
to when we were children. This is our Fatherland and 
hither we are drawn, and here we have found you, you 
dear little sister! We may stay here two days longer, 
and then we must fly away across the ocean, to a lovely 
country, indeed, but not our Fatherland I How can we 
ever take you with us? We have neither ship nor boat!” 

''How can I save you?” said their sister, and they 
went on talking to each other, nearly the whole night 
through, sleeping for a few hours only. 

Elise was awakened in the morning by the mstling 
of the swans’ wings above her; her brothers were again 
transformed, and flew round in great circles, till she lost 
sight of them in the distance. But one of them, the 
youngest, stayed behind. The swan laid his head in 
her lap, and she stroked its white wings. All day they 
remained together. Toward evening the others returned, 
and as soon as the sun went down there they stood in 
their natural forms. 

"To-morrow we must fly away, and dare not come 
back for a whole year^ but we cannot leave you like this! 







The swan laid his head in her Lap and she stroked 


its white wings 





THE WILD SWANS 


57 


Have you the courage to go with us? My arm is strong 
enough to carry you through the forest, and surely all 
our wings together ought to be strong enough to bear 
you across the ocean.’’ 

''Yes, yes, take me with you!” said Elise. 

They spent the whole evening weaving a kind of 
net out of the elastic bark of the willow and the tough 
rushes; they made it large and strong. Elise lay down 
upon it, and when the sun rose and the brothers turned 
to swans again, they took hold of the net with their 
bills and flew high up toward the clouds with their 
precious sister, who was still fast asleep. The sim- 
beams fell right in her face, so one of the swans flew over 
her head that his broad wings might shield her. 

They were far from land when Elise woke; she thought 
she must still be dreaming, it seemed so strange to be 
carried through the air high over the ocean. By her 
side lay a branch of lovely ripe berries, and a number 
of sweet-tasting nuts, which her yoimgest brother had 
gathered for her, and she smiled at him gratefully. 
She knew it was he who flew above her, shading her 
from the stm. 

They were up so high that the first ship they saw 
looked like a white sea-gull floating on the water. A 
great cloud came up behind them like a moimtain, 
and Elise saw her own shadow on it, and that of the 
eleven swans flying there like giants in size. It was a 
grander picture than she had ever seen before, but 
as the sun rose higher, and the cloud fell farther behind, 
the swaying shadow picture disappeared. 

They flew on and on all day like an arrow whizzing 
through the air, but they went more slowly than usual. 


58 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


for now they had their sister to carry. Bad weather 
came, and night was drawing on. With terror in her 
heart, Elise saw the sun sinking, and still the solitary 
rock was nowhere to be seen. The swans seemed to be 
taking stronger strokes than ever; alas! she was the 
cause of their not being able to travel faster; as soon as 
the sun went down they would become men, fall head- 
long into the sea, and drown. She prayed to God from 
her inmost heart, but still she could not see the rock. 
The black clouds drew nearer and nearer, and strong 
gusts of wind foretold a storm. The clouds looked like a 
great, threatening, leaden wave rushing ever forward, 
while the lightning flashed ceaselessly. 

The sim was now right at the edge of the sea. Elise’s 
heart quaked. Then the swans shot downward so sud- 
denly that she thought she was falling; then they hovered 
again. Half of the sun was below the horizon, and now 
for the first time she saw the little rock below her. It 
looked no bigger than the head of a seal sticking out of 
the water. The sim sank quickly, now it was no bigger 
than a star; then her foot touched solid earth, and the 
sim went out like the last spark in a bit of burning paper; 
she saw her brothers stand arm in arm aroimd her, and 
there was only just room enough for them and her. The 
waves beat against the rock, and dashed over them like 
a shower of drenching rain. The heavens gleamed with 
one continuous flame, and peal on peal rolled the thun- 
der. But sister and brothers held each other’s hands and 
sang a psalm which gave them courage and comfort. 

At dawn the air was clear and still. As soon as the 
sun rose, the swans flew off with Elise, away from the 
island. The sea still ran high, and, when they were 


THE WILD SWANS 


59 

flying in the air, the white foam on the dark green ocean 
looked like millions of swans floating on the water. 

When the sim rose higher, Elise saw before her, half 
floating in the air, a moimtain country with great masses 
of shining ice on the heights. And in the midst lay a 
palace that seemed miles in length, with steep colonnades 
and porticoes built one above the other. Below swayed 
forests of palm trees and gorgeous blossoms as big as mill 
wheels. She asked if it was the land to which she was 
going, but the swans shook their heads, because what 
she saw was a mirage, the beautiful and ever-changing 
palace of Fata Morgana. No mortal dared enter there. 
Elise gazed at it, and, as she gazed, palace, forests, and 
mountains fell away, and in their place stood twenty 
proud churches, all alike, with high towers and pointed 
windows. She seemed to hear the notes of the organ, 
but it was the ocean she heard. Now she was close to 
the churches, and lo! they had changed to a great fleet 
sailing away below her; she looked down and it was only 
sea fog moving along over the waters. Yes, endless 
transformations kept passing before her gaze until the 
real land to which she was bound rose before her, with 
its beautiful blue moimtains covered with forests of 
cedar, and its cities and palaces. Long before the sun 
went down, she sat among the hills in front of a large 
cave covered with soft green creepers, which looked like 
embroidered carpets and tapestry. 

'‘Now we shall see what you will dream here to- 
night,’’ said the youngest brother, as he showed her the 
cave chamber where she was to sleep. 

"Would that I might dream how to save you,” she 
said, and this thought filled her mind completely. She 


6o 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


prayed earnestly to God for His help, and even in her 
sleep she continued her prayer. Then it seemed to her 
that she was flying high in the air to Fata Morgana’s 
cloud castle, and that the fairy came to meet her. She 
was wonderfully charming and brilliant, and yet she 
resembled closely the woman who gave her the berries 
in the wood and told her about the swans with the golden 
crowns. 

‘'Your brothers can be saved,’’ she said, “but have 
you courage and endurance? The sea is indeed softer 
than your little hands, and yet it wears away the hardest 
stones, but it does not feel the pain your Angers would 
feel. It has no heart, and does not suffer the sorrow and 
anguish you must endure. Do you see this stinging- 
nettle I hold in my hand? Many of its kind grow roimd 
the cave where you sleep; only those and the ones which 
grow on the graves in the churchyards may be used. 
Remember it well! You must pluck them, though they 
bum and blister your hands. Crush the nettles with 
your feet and you will have flax, and of this you must 
weave eleven coats of mail, with long sleeves. Throw 
these over the eleven wild swans and the charm is broken! 
But remember that from the moment you begin this 
work until it is finished, even though years pass mean- 
while, you must not speak. The first word you say will 
go like a death-dealing dagger straight to your brothers’ 
hearts. Their lives hang on your tongue. Mark well 
all I have told you!’’ 

At the same moment she touched the girl’s hand 
with the nettle; it felt like burning Are and Elise woke. 
It was bright daylight, and close to where she had slept 
lay a nettle like that she had seen in her dream. She 


THE WILD SWANS 6i 

fell upon her knees with thanks to God and left the cave 
to begin her work. 

She seized the odious nettles with her delicate fingers, 
and they burned her like fire; great blisters rose on her 
hands and arms, but she suffered gladly could she thus 
deliver her beloved brothers. With her bare feet she 
^ crushed every nettle, and twisted the green flax. 

The brothers came back at sunset, and they were 
very much alarmed at finding Elise so silent; they 
thought it was some new witchcraft exercised by their 
evil stepmother. But when they saw her hands, they 
imderstood what she was doing for their sakes; the 
youngest brother wept, and wherever his tears fell, she 
felt no more pain, and the burning blisters disappeared. 

She spent the whole night at her work, for she could 
not rest till she had delivered her dear brothers. All 
the following day while the swans were away she sat 
solitary, but never had the time flown so quickly. One 
coat of mail was finished and now she began the next. 
Then a hrmting-horn soimded among the mountains; 
she was much frightened, the sound came nearer, and 
she heard dogs barking. In terror she rushed into the 
cave, tied the flax she had collected and woven into a 
bundle, and seated herself upon it. 

At that moment a big dog bounded forward from 
the thicket, and another and another. They barked 
loudly, ran back and then forward again. In a few 
minutes all the himtsmen were standing outside the 
cave, and the handsomest of them was the king of the 
coimtry. He stepped up to Elise, and never had he 
seen a more beautiful girl. 

''How came you here, you beautiful child? ” he asked. 


62 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


Elise shook her head, for she dared not speak; the 
salvation and the lives of her brothers depended upon it. 
She hid her hands under her apron, so that the king 
should not see what she had to suffer. 

'‘Come with me!'' he said. “You cannot stay here! 
If you are as good as you are beautiful, I will dress you 
in silks and velvets and put a golden crown upon your 
head, and you shall live with me and have your home 
in my richest palace!'' Then he lifted her up on his 
horse; she wept and wnmg her hands, but the king said, 
“I only wish your happiness; some day you will thank 
me for what I am doing ! '' Then he dashed away among 
the mountains, holding her before him on his horse, and 
all the huntsmen followed. 

As the sim went down, the magnificent royal city 
with churches and domes lay before them, and the king 
led her into the palace, where great fountains played in 
lofty marble halls, and where walls and ceilings glowed 
with paintings; but she had no eyes for all that, but only 
wept and sorrowed; passively she allowed the women to 
dress her in royal robes, to braid pearls into her hair, and 
to draw gloves over the blistered fingers. 

She was so dazzling in her loveliness as she stood there 
in all her pretty clothes that the courtiers bowed still 
lower before her, and the king wooed her for his bride, 
though the archbishop shook his head, and whispered 
that he feared the beautiful wood maiden must be a 
witch, who dazzled their eyes and charmed the king's 
heart. 

But the king did not listen; he ordered the music to 
play, the richest food to be brought, and the loveliest 
girls to dance before her. She was led through fragrant 


THE WILD SWANS 


63 


gardens into gorgeous apartments, but not a smile came 
to her lips, or shone forth in her eyes; sorrow sat there 
like an eternal heritage. Then the king opened the 
door of a little chamber close by the room where she was 
to sleep. It was adorned with costly green carpets, and 
looked exactly like the cave where she had lived. On 
the floor lay the bundle of flax she had spun from the 
nettles, and from the ceiling hung the shirt of mail that 
had been flnished. One of the htmtsmen had brought 
all these things away as curiosities. 

‘‘Here you may dream that you are back in your 
former home!” said the king. “Here is the work upon 
which you were engaged; now, in the midst of your 
splendor, it will amuse you to recall those times.” 

When Elise saw all these things so dear to her heart, 
a smile for the first time played upon her lips, and the 
blood came back to her cheeks. She thought of the 
deliverance of her brothers, and she kissed the king’s 
hand; he pressed her to his heart, and ordered that all 
the church bells ring the marriage peals. The lovely, 
voiceless girl from the woods was to be queen of the land. 

The archbishop whispered evil words into the ear of 
the king, but they did not reach his heart. The wedding 
was to take place, and the archbishop himself had to 
put the crown upon the bride’s head. In his evil ill will 
he pressed the narrow circlet tightly down upon her 
forehead so that it hurt her. But a heavier circlet lay 
about her heart, her grief for her brothers, and she did 
not feel the physical pain. Her lips were sealed, for a 
single word from her would cost her brothers their lives, 
but her eyes were full of great love for the good and hand- 
some king who did everything he could to make her 


64 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


happy. Every day she grew more and more attached 
to him, and longed to confide in him, to tell him her 
sufferings; but dumb she must remain, and in silence 
complete her task. So at night she stole away from his 
side into the little chamber which was made to resemble 
the cave, and here she knitted, finishing one shirt after 
another. When she came to the seventh, she had no 
more flax; she knew that the nettles she was to use grew 
in the churchyard. But she had to pluck them herself. 
How was she to get there? 

**Oh, what is the pain of my fingers compared with 
the anguish of my heart?” she thought. ”I must ven- 
ture it, and the good God will not desert me!” With as 
much terror in her heart as if she were doing an evil 
deed, she stole down, one moonlight night, into the gar- 
den, and between the long rows of trees out into the 
silent streets to the churchyard. There she saw, sitting 
on one of the largest gravestones, a group of hideous 
ghouls, who took off their tattered garments, as if they 
were about to bathe. Then they dug down into the 
freshly-made graves with their long, skinny fingers, took 
out the bodies, and devoured them. Elise had to pass 
close by them, and they fixed their evil eyes upon her; 
but she said a prayer as she passed, picked the stinging 
nettles, and hurried back to the palace with them. 

Only one person had seen her, and that was the arch- 
bishop, who was up while others slept. Surely, now 
his opinion that all was not as it should be with the 
queen was justified; she was a witch, and so she had 
charmed the king and all the people. 

He told the king in the confessional what he had 
seen and what he feared, and when those hard words 


THE WILD SWANS 


65 


passed his lips, the sculptured saints shook their heads 
as if to say: is not so; Elise is innocent/' But the 

archbishop explained it differently, and said that they . 
were bearing witness against her, and that they shook 
their heads at her sin. Two great tears rolled down 
the king's cheeks, and he went home with doubt in his 
heart. He pretended to sleep at night, but no quiet 
sleep came to his eyes. He perceived how Elise got up 
every night and went to her little private room. Day 
by day his face grew darker. Elise saw it but could not 
imagine the cause of it. It alarmed her, and what was 
she not already suffering in her heart for the sake of her 
brothers! Her salt tears ran down upon the royal velvet 
and purple, where they lay like sparkling diamonds; 
and all who saw the rich splendor wished to be queen. 

She had, however, almost reached the end of her 
labors; only one shirt of mail was wanting. But again 
she had no more flax and not a single mettle. Once 
more, for the last time, she must go to the churchyard 
to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with dread of 
the solitary walk and the horrible ghouls; but her will 
was as strong as her trust in God. 

Elise went, but the king and the archbishop followed 
her. They saw her disappear within the grated gateway 
of the churchyard; and when they approached they saw 
the ghouls sitting on the gravestone as Elise had seen 
them; and the king turned away, for he thought among 
them her whose head that very evening had rested 
on his breast. 

“The people must judge her," he said. And the 
people judged that she should be birrned in the glowing 
flames! 


5 


66 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


She was led away from her beautiful royal apartments 
to a dark, damp dimgeon, where the wind whistled 
through the grated windows. Instead of velvet and silk 
they gave her the btmdle of nettles she had gathered; on 
that she could lay her head. The hard, burning shirts 
of mail she had knitted were to be her covering. But 
they could have given her nothing more precious. She 
set to work again and prayed to God. Outside her 
prison the street boys sang derisive songs about her, 
and not a soul comforted her with a kind word. 

Toward evening she heard the rustle of swans’ wings 
close to the bars of her window. It was her yoimgest 
brother, who had at last fotmd her. He sobbed aloud 
with joy although he knew that the coming night might 
be her last; but then, too, her work was now almost 
done and her brothers were there. 

The archbishop came to spend the last hour with 
her as he had promised the king. But she shook her 
head at him, and by looks and gestures begged him to 
leave her. That night she had to finish her work, or 
else all would be wasted — all — pain, tears, and sleep- 
less nights. The archbishop went away with bitter 
words against her, but poor Elise knew that she was 
innocent, and she went on with her work. 

The little mice ran about the floor bringing nettles 
to her feet, so as to give what help they could, and a 
thrush sat at the grating of the window, where he sang 
all night as merrily as he could to keep up her courage. 

Dawn was just breaking and the sun would not rise 
for another hour, when the eleven brothers stood at the 
gate of the palace and asked to be taken to the king. 
This could not be done, was the answer, for it was still 


THE WILD SWANS 


67 

night; the king was asleep and no one dared wake him. 
They entreated, they threatened, the watch came, and 
even the king himself stepped out and asked what it 
meant; but just then the sim rose, and no more brothers 
were to be seen, only eleven wild swans flying away over 
the palace. 

The whole populace streamed out of the town gates 
to see the witch burned. A miserable horse drew the 
cart in which Elise was seated. They had put upon her 
a garment of coarse sackcloth, and all her wonderful 
long hair hung loose about her beautiful head. Her 
cheeks were deathly pale, and her lips moved softly, 
while her fingers imceasingly twisted the green flax. 
Even on the way to her death she did not abandon her 
unfinished work. Ten shirts lay completed at her feet 
and she was knitting the eleventh. 

The populace scoffed at her. ‘‘See how the witch 
mutters. No psalm-book has she in her hands; no, there 
she sits with her loathsome sorcery. Tear it away from 
her, into a thousand pieces!” 

The crowd pressed around her to destroy her work, 
but just then eleven white swans came flying and perched 
on the cart around her and flapped their great wings. 
The crowd gave way before them in terror. 

“It is a sign from Heaven! She must be innocent!” 
they whispered but they dared not say it aloud. 

The executioners seized her by the hand, but she 
hastily threw the eleven shirts over the swans, and there 
stood eleven handsome princes; but the yoimgest had 
a swan's wing in place of an arm, for one sleeve was 
wanting to his shirt of mail; she had not had time to 
finish it. 


68 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


‘‘Now I may speak! I am innocent!” 

The people who saw what had happened bowed down 
before her as if she had been a saint, but she sank lifeless 
in her brothers’ arms; so great had been the strain, the 
terror, and the suffering she had endured. 

“Yes, innocent she is, indeed,” said the eldest brother, 
and he told them all that had happened. 

While he spoke a wonderful fragrance, as of millions 
of roses, spread around. Every faggot aroimd the stake 
had taken root and shot out branches, and a great, high 
hedge of red roses had grown up. At the very top was 
one pure white flower, shining like a star. This the king 
broke off and placed on Elise’s breast, and she woke with 
joy and peace in her heart. 

All the church bells began to ring of their own accord, 
singing birds flocked aroimd them, and such a bridal 
procession passed back to the palace as no king had ever 
seen before! 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


Everything was so lovely out in the country! It was 
siunmer. The cornfields were yellow, and the oats were 
green; the hay had been put up in stacks in the green 
meadows, and there the stork went about on his long, 
thin, red legs, talking Egyptian, for that was the language 
he had learned from his mother. All arotmd the fields 
and meadows were great forests, and in the midst of the 
forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it certainly was glorious 
out there in the country. 

In the midst of the simshine lay an old farm sur- 
rounded by deep canals, and from the wall down to the 
water grew great burdocks, so high that little children 
could stand upright under the tallest of them. It was 
just as wild as in the thickest wood, and here sat a Duck 
upon her nest; she must hatch out her little Ducklings, 
you see. But she was now almost tired out because it 
took such a long time and visitors were so few and far 
between. The other Ducks liked better to swim about 
in the canal than to run up and sit down under a 
burdock to quack with her. 

At last one eggshell after another cracked open. 
'' Peep I peep 1 In all the eggs were little creattues that 
stuck out their heads. 

“Quack, quack!’' said the Duck; and out the little 
ones tumbled as fast as they could, looking all about 
them imder the green leaves; and the mother let them 
look as much as they pleased, for green is good for the 
eyes. 

“What a big world it is!” said all the young ones, for 
69 


70 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


they certainly had much more room now than when 
they lay in the eggs. 

'‘Do you think this is the whole world?*’ said the 
mother. "It extends far beyond the other side of the 
garden, right into the parson’s field! But there I have 
never been. You are all here, are you not?” — and 
thereupon she stood up. "No, not all; the largest egg 
is still there! How long is this to last? I am really 
tired of it.” And then she sat down again. 

"Well, how are you getting along?” asked an old 
Duck who had come to pay her a visit. 

"It takes such a long time with one of the eggs,” 
said the setting Duck. "It will not hatch. But just 
take a look at the others; they are the prettiest ducks 
I have ever seen. They all look like their father; the 
wretch, he never comes to see me.” 

"Let me see the egg that will not hatch,” said the 
old visitor. "Depend upon it, it is a turkey egg. I was 
fooled that way once, and had my trouble and anxiety 
with the yotmg ones, for, you see, they are afraid of the 
water. I could not get them out. I quacked and 
scolded, but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, 
that’s a turkey egg! You just let it lie where it is and 
go teach the other children how to swim.” 

"I think I will sit on it a little while longer,” said 
the Duck. "I’ve sat so long now that I may as well sit 
a few days more.” 

"Just as you please,” said the old Duck; and then 
she went away. 

At last the egg broke. "Peep! peep!” said the little 
one, and tumbled out. It was very large and very ugly. 
The Duck looked at it. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


71 


‘‘That is a terribly large Duckling,” said she; “none 
of the others looks like that; can it really be a turkey 
chick? Well, we shall soon find out. Into the water 
he must go, if I have to push him into it.” 

The next day the weather was fine; the sim shone 
on all the green burdock leaves, and the Mother Duck 
with all her little ones came down to the water’s edge. 
Splash! into the water she jumped. “Quack! quack!” 
she called, and then one Duckling after another tumbled 
out. The water closed over their heads, but they came 
up in an instant, and swam capitally; their legs worked 
of themselves, and there they were, all in the canal, 
the ugly, gray Duckling with them. 

“No, it’s not a turkey,” said the mother; “see how 
well it uses its legs, and how upright it holds itself. It 
is my own child! On the whole it’s very pretty, when 
one takes a good look at it! Quack! quack! — come 
with me. I’ll take you into the world, and introduce 
you in the poultry yard; but always keep close to me, 
so that no one treads on you; and look out for the cat!” 

So they went to the poultry yard. There was a 
terrible commotion, for two families were quarreling 
about an eel’s head, and in the end the cat got it. 

“See, that is the way of the world!” said the Mother 
Duck; and she whetted her bill, for she, too, wanted the 
eel’s head. “Use your legs!” she said. “See that 
you bustle about, and bow your heads before the old 
Duck yonder. She is the most distinguished of all here; 
she is of Spanish blood — that’s why she is so fat; and 
do you see, she has a red rag round her leg; that’s some- 
thing particularly fine, and the greatest distincton a 
Duck can receive; it signifies a wish not to lose her, and 


72 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


that she may be recognized by man and beast. Shake 
yourselves — keep your legs apart! A well-bred Duck 
keeps its legs apart as much as possible, just like father 
and mother, so I Now bend yoiu* necks and say ' Quack 1’ ' ' 

And they did so; but the other Ducks round about 
looked at them, and said quite loudly: 

''Just look at that! Now we’re to have all that 
crowd, too; as if there were not enough of us already! 
And — fie! how that Duckling yonder looks; we won’t 
stand that!” And one Duck flew up immediately, and 
bit it in the neck. 

"Let him alone,” said the mother; "he does no harm 
to anyone.” 

"Yes, but he’s too large and peculiar,” said the Duck 
that did the biting; "and therefore he must be licked.” 

"Those are pretty children the mother has there,” 
said the old Duck with the rag around her leg, " They ’re 
all pretty but that one; that was a failure. I wish she 
could alter it.” 

"That cannot be done, your Highness,” replied the 
Mother Duck. "He is not pretty, but he has a really 
good disposition, and swims as well as any other; I may 
even say, better. I think he will grow prettier, and 
in time become smaller; he has lain too long in the egg, 
and therefore is not properly shaped.” And then she 
smoothed the feathers on its neck and patted it here 
and there. "Moreover, he is a drake,” she said, "and 
therefore It doesn’t make so much difference. I think 
he will be very strong; he will make his way all right.” 

"The other Ducklings are lovely,” said the old Duck. 
"Make yourselves at home; and if you find an eel’s 
head, you may bring it to me.” 



Page 73 


The poor Ducklmg was scoffed at hy the whole yard 


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THE UGLY DUCKLING 


73 


And so they made themselves at home. But the 
poor Duckling that had been hatched out last and looked 
so ugly, was bitten and pushed and jeered at, and as 
much by the chickens as by the ducks. 

‘^He is too big!” they all said. 

The turkey cock, who had been bom with spurs, 
and therefore thought himself an emperor, blew himself 
up lilce a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon 
it; then he gobbled, and grew very red in the face. The 
poor Duckling did not know whether to stand or sit, 
and became very miserable, because it was so ugly and 
was scoffed at by the whole yard. 

Thus the first day passed; and thereafter things 
became worse and worse. The poor Duckling was 
chased about by every one; even its brothers and sisters 
were quite unkind to it, and said, '‘If only the cat would 
catch you, you ugly creature!” And the mother said, 
“Would that you were far away!” And the ducks bit 
it, and the chickens pecked it, and the girl who had to 
feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot. 

Then it ran away, flying over the hedge fence, and 
making the little birds in the bushes fly up in fear. 

“That is because I am so ugly ! ” thought the Duckling. 
It shut its eyes, but kept running on. Thus it came to 
the great moor where the wild ducks lived. Here it lay 
all night, weary and downcast. In the morning the wild 
ducks flew up, and looked at their new companion. 

“Pray, who are you?” they asked; and the Duckling 
turned in every direction and bowed as well as it could. 
“You are remarkably ugly ! ” said the wild ducks. “ But 
we are quite indifferent to that, so long as you do not 
marry into our family.” 


74 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Poor thing! It certainly did not think of marrying, 
and only hoped to be allowed to lie among the reeds 
and drink some of the swamp water. 

There it remained two whole days; then came thither 
two wild geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. 
It had not been long since each had come out of the egg, 
and that is why they were so saucy. 

Listen, comrade,” said one of them, ^^you are 
rather ugly, but I like you. Will you go with us and 
become a bird of passage? Near here, on another 
moor, are a few sweet, lovely, wild geese, all unmarried, 
and all able to say ^Honkl’ You have a chance of 
making your fortune, ugly as you are!” 

”Piff! paff!” resoimded at that moment through 
the air, and both ganders fell dead in the swamp; the 
water became blood red. ”Piff! paff!” soimded again, 
and whole flocks of wild geese rose from the reeds. 
Then there was another report. A great hunt was on. 
The himters were lying in wait all round the moor, and 
some were even sitting in the branches of the trees 
which spread far over the reeds. The blue smoke rose 
like clouds among the thick trees, and was wafted far 
away across the water; the hunting dogs came — splash, 
splash! — into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds 
bent down on every side. The poor Duckling was in 
great fright ! It turned its head to put it tmder its wing, 
but at that moment a great big dog stood close beside 
it! His tongue htmg far out of his mouth and his eyes 
gleamed wickedly; he thrust out his head toward the 
Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and — splash, splash! 
— on he went without seizing it. 

‘'Oh, heaven be thanked!” sighed the frightened 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


75 

Duckling. am so ugly that even the dog does not 
care to bite me!*^ 

And so it lay quite still while the shots whizzed 
through the reeds as the guns banged away. Not 
imtil late in the day was silence restored; but the poor 
Duckling did not dare rise; it waited several hours more 
before it looked about, and then it hurried away from 
the moor as fast as it could. It ran over field and 
meadow; the wind was so strong that it was difficult 
to make any headway. 

Toward evening the Duckling came to the miserable 
little hut of a peasant. This hut was so dilapidated that 
it seemed undecided on which side to fall and therefore 
had remained standing. The wind whistled roimd the 
Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was 
obliged to sit down in order to withstand it; the tempest 
grew worse and worse. Then the Duckling noticed that 
one of the hinges of the door had given way, and the door 
htmg at such a slant that it could slip through the gap 
into the room; and this it did. 

Here lived an old woman with her Cat and her Hen. 
The Tom Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his 
back and purr; he could even give out sparks, but this 
was when one stroked his fur the wrong way. The Hen 
had unusually short legs, and therefore she was called 
Chickabiddy-Shortshanks. She laid good eggs, and the 
woman loved her as if she had been a child. 

In the morning the strange Duckling was at once 
noticed, and the Tom Cat began to purr and the Hen to 
cluck. 

^‘What is the trouble?'* said the woman, looking all 
roimd. She could not see very well, and so she thought 


76 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


the Duckling was a fat duck that had strayed. *‘This 
is a rare prize/’ she said. ^‘Now I shall have duck eggs. 
I hope it is not a drake. That I must find out.” 

And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three 
weeks, but no eggs came. The Tom Cat was master 
of the house while the Hen was the lady, and they always 
said, ‘‘We and the rest of the world!” for they thought 
they were half the world, and by far the better half. 
The Duckling thought one might have a different opinion, 
but that the Hen would not allow. 

”Can you lay eggs?” she asked. 

”No.” 

”Then have the goodness to hold your tongue.” 

And the Tom Cat said, “Can you curve your back, 
and purr, and give out sparks?” 

“No.” 

“Then you cannot have any opinion of your own 
when sensible people are speaking.” 

So the Duckling sat in a corner and felt very blue; 
then it thought of the fresh air and the sunshine, and 
was seized with such a strange longing to float on the 
water that it could not help telling the Hen of it. 

“What are you thinking of?” cried the Hen. “You 
have nothing to do, and that’s why you have such 
fancies. Purr or lay eggs, and such notions will pass 
away.” 

“But it is so charming to swim on the water,” said 
the Duckling, “so refreshing to let it close above one’s 
head, and to dive down to the bottom.” 

“Yes, that must be a pleasure, truly,” said the Hen. 
“You must have gone crazy! Ask the Cat about it — 
he’s the cleverest person I know — ask him if he likes 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


77 


*to swim on the water, or to dive; I won’t speak about 
myself. Ask your mistress, the old woman; no one in 
the world is wiser than she. Do you think she has any 
desire to swim, and to let the water close over her head? ” 

*^You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling. 

^*We don’t imderstand you! Then pray who is to 
understand you? You surely don’t pretend to be more 
clever than the Cat and the old woman — I won’t 
say anything as to myself. Don’t be conceited, child, 
and be grateftd for all the kindness you have received. 
Did you not get into a warm room, and have you not 
fallen in with company from which you may learn some- 
thing? But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant 
to associate with you. Believe me, I speak for your 
good. I tell you disagreeable things, and by that one 
may always know one’s true friends. Now set yourself 
to learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out sparks!” 

^‘I think I will go out into the wide world,” said the 
Duckling. 

‘'Yes, do go,” replied the Hen. 

And then the Duckling went. It swam on the water, 
and dived, but it was slighted by every creature because 
of its ugliness. 

Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest 
turned yellow and brown; the wind caught them so that 
they danced about, and the sky looked very cold. The 
clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snowflakes, and 
on the fence sat the raven, cawing, “Ou! ou!” because 
of the cold; yes, it was enough to make one shiver just 
to think about it. The poor little Duckling certainly 
had a hard time of it. 

One evening — the sim was just setting in all his 


78 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


beauty — a great flock of handsome birds came out of 
the bushes; they were dazzlingly white, with long, 
flexible necks; they were swans. They uttered a very 
peculiar cry, spread out their great, glorious wings, and 
flew away from that cold region to warmer lands, to 
fair open waters. They moimted so high, so very high! 
and the ugly little Duckling had such a strange feeling 
as it watched them. It turned round and round in the 
water like a wheel, stretched out its neck toward them, 
and uttered such a strange, loud cry that it frightened 
itself. Oh! it could not forget those beautiful, happy 
birds! When it could see them no longer, it dived down 
to the very bottom, and when it came up again, it was 
quite beside itself. It did not know the name of those 
birds, nor whither they were flying; but it loved them 
as it had never loved any one before. It was not at all 
envious of them. How could it think of wishing to 
possess such loveliness! It would have been glad if the 
ducks had only endured its company — the poor ugly 
creature! 

And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling 
was forced to swim about in the water to prevent the 
surface from freezing entirely; but every night the hole 
in which it swam about became smaller and smaller. 
It froze so hard that the ice sheet resoimded with sharp 
cracking noises. The Duckling was obliged to use its 
legs continually to prevent the hole from closing. At 
last it became exhausted and lay quite still, and thus 
froze fast in the ice. 

Early in the morning a peasant came by. When 
he saw what had happened, he broke the ice-crust with 
his wooden shoe, and carried the Duckling home to his 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


79 


wife. There it revived. The children wanted to play 
with it; but the Duckling thought they wanted to hurt 
it and in its terror flew into the milk-pan, so that 
the milk splashed out into the room. The woman 
screamed and threw up her hands, at which the -Duck- 
ling flew down into the butter-tub, and then into the 
flour-barrel and out again. My, how it did look then! 
The woman screamed, and struck at it with the fire- 
tongs, and the children, laughing and shouting, tumbled 
over one another in their efforts to catch the Duckling. 
Happily the door stood open, and the poor creature 
rushed out among the bushes in the newly-fallen snow; 
there it lay as in a faint, quite exhausted. 

But it would be too sorrowful a tale to tell all the 
misery and want which the Duckling had to endure that 
winter. It was lying out on the moor among the reeds 
when the sun began to warm again and the larks to sing. 

Beautiful spring had come. Then one day the Duck- 
ling lifted its wings; they beat the air more strongly 
than before, and bore it swiftly away. Before it well 
knew how it all happened, it foimd itself in a great 
garden, where the apple trees were in bloom and the 
fragrant lilacs bent their long green branches down to 
the winding streams. Oh, how beautiful it was; such 
gladness of spring 1 From the thicket came three glorious 
white swans; they ruffled their feathers and swam lightly 
on the water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, 
and a peculiar sadness oppressed him. 

will go up to them, to the royal birds, and they 
will kill me, because I, who am so ugly, dare approach 
them. But that is of no consequence! Better to be 
killed by them than to be pinched by the ducks, pecked 


So 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


by the chickens, kicked about by the girl who takes 
care of the poultry-yard, and to suffer in winter!” It 
flew into the water and swam toward the beautiful 
swans; they saw it, and came sailing down upon it with 
rustling fekthers. '‘Kill me!” said the poor creature, 
and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing 
but death. But what did it see in the clear water? It 
beheld its own image — and, lo! it was no longer a 
clumsy, dark-gray bird, ugly and repulsive to look at — 
it was itself a swan! 

It matters nothing to be bom in a duck-yard, if one 
has only lain in a swan’s egg. 

The Duckling felt quite glad because of all the misery 
and misfortune it had suffered, for now it could rightly 
value its happiness and all the splendor that surroimded 
it. And the great swans swam roimd it and stroked it 
with their bills. 

Into the garden came little children, who threw bread 
and com into the water. The youngest cried, ‘‘There 
is a new one!” and the other children shouted joyously, 
‘‘Yes, a new one has arrived!” They clapped their 
hands and danced about, then ran to their father and 
mother. Bread and cake were thrown into the water, 
and all said, ‘‘The new one is the most beautiful of all! 
so yotmg and handsome!” and the old swans bowed 
their heads before it. 

Then it felt quite bashful, and hid its head under its 
wing, for it did not know what to think. It was very 
happy, and yet not at all proud, for a good heart is never 
proud or conceited. It thought how it had been perse- 
cuted and despised; and now it heard them saying that 
it was the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. Even 


THE UGLY DUCKLING 


8i 


the lilac bush bent its branches straight down into the 
water before it ; and the sun shone warm and mild. Then 
it shook its feathers, lifted its slender neck, and cried 
joyously from the depths of its heart: 

never dreamed of such happiness when I was still 
the Ugly Duckling r’ 


A REAL PRINCESS 


There was once a prince, who wanted a princess; but 
he would have nothing but a real princess. So he traveled 
all over the world to find such a princess. But no matter 
where he went there was always something wrong. There 
were plenty of princesses, but that they were real 
princesses he could never be perfectly sure. There was 
always something or other that was not quite right. 
So at last he returned home, very downhearted, because 
he would have liked so much to have had a real princess. 

One evening it was very stormy. The lightning 
fiashed and the thimder crashed, while the rain poured 
down. It was really terrible weather! Then a knocking 
was heard at the outer gate of the castle and the old 
king went out to open it. 

It was a princess who stood outside. But gracious, 
how she looked from the rain and the storm! The 
water streamed out of her hair and her clothes, it ran in 
at the toes of her shoes and out at the heels, and then 
she declared that she was a real princess. 

''Well, we shall soon find out!” thought the old queen. 
Without saying a word, she went into the bedchamber, 
took all the bedclothes off the bed, and placed a single 
green pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she took 
twenty mattresses and piled them one on top of the other 
over the pea, and then piled twenty feather beds on top 
of the mattresses. 

There the princess was to sleep that night. 

In the morning they asked her how she had slept. 

' ' Oh, wretchedly ! ' ' said the princess. ' ' I have hardly 
82 


A REAL PRINCESS 


83 


closed my eyes all night long! Heaven knows what was 
in that bed! I have been lying on some hard thing, so 
that my whole body is black and blue with bruises! It 
is really terrible!*^ 

Then they saw at once that she was a real princess, 
for she had felt the pea through twenty mattresses and 
twenty feather beds. None but a real princess could 
have so tender a skin and be so easily bruised. 

So the prince took her to be his wife, for now he knew 
he had found a real princess. The pea was placed in the 
museum of art, where it may still be seen if no one has 
carried it away. 

There, now I have told you a real story! 


THE TINDER-BOX 


A soldier came marching along the highway — left, 
right! left right! He had his knapsack on his back and 
his sword at his side, for he had been in the wars, and 
was now making his way home. As he marched along 
he met an old witch on the road. She was very hideous, 
her imder lip hanging way down to her breast. ^‘Good 
evening, soldier,*' she said. What a fine sword you have, 
and what a big knapsack! You certainly are a real 
soldier. For that you shall have all the money you 
could wish for.” 

“Thank you, old witch!” said the soldier. 

“ Do you see that great tree? ” said the witch, pointing 
to the tree that stood beside them. “It is hollow. You 
must climb to the top. There you'll see a hole, where 
you can slip through and get deep down into the tree. 
I'll tie a rope rotmd your waist, so I can pull you up 
again when you call me.” 

“But what am I to do down in the tree?” asked the 
soldier. 

“Get money,” replied the witch. “Listen to me. 
WThen you reach the bottom of the tree, you will find 
yoitrself in a great passageway; it is brightly lighted, for 
more than a hundred lamps are burning there. Then 
you will see three doors; you can open them, for the keys 
are in the locks. If you enter the first chamber you’ll 
see a great chest in the middle of the floor. On this 
chest sits a dog, and he has a pair of eyes as big as tea- 
cups. But don't let that bother you! I'll give you my 
blue-checked apron, which you must spread out on the 
84 


THE TINDER-BOX 


85 


floor; then go quickly, seize the dog, and set him on my 
apron; then open the chest and take as many shillings 
as you like. They are all of copper. Now if you would 
rather have silver, you must go into the next room. 
There sits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. 
But do not mind that! Set him on my apron, and take 
all you want of the money. If you want gold, you can 
have that, too — in fact, as much as you can carry — by 
going into the third chamber. But the dog that sits on 
the money chest there has two eyes, each as big as the 
Round Tower. ^ He is quite a dog, you may be sure. 
But don’t let that bother you in the least, just set him 
on my apron and he won’t hurt you; then you may take 
as much gold out of the chest as you like.” 

'‘That’s not so bad,” said the soldier. ‘‘But what 
am I to give you, old witch? For there must be some- 
thing you want out of it, I fancy.” 

“No,” replied the witch, “not a single shilling will I 
take. All I want you to bring me is an old tinder-box 
my grandmother forgot when she was down there last.” 

“Well, then, tie the rope around my waist,” cried 
the soldier. 

“Here it is,” said the witch, “and here’s my blue- 
checked apron.” 

Then the soldier climbed the tree and let himself down 
* into the hole, and there he stood, as the witch had said, 
in the great hall where the many lamps were burning. 

He opened the first door. Ugh! There, staring 
straight at him, sat the dog with eyes as big as tea-cups. 

“You’re a fine fellow!” exclaimed the soldier as he 

iThe round tower of Trinity Church in Copenhagen, in feet high, and 
unique in Europe. It has a winding stairway up which Peter the Great is said 
to have driven in a coach and four. 


86 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


placed him on the witch’s apron. Then he took as many 
copper shillings as his pockets would hold, locked the 
chest, put the dog on it again, and went into the second 
chamber. 

Whew! There sat the dog with eyes as big as mill- 
wheels. 

''Don’t stare so hard at me,” said the soldier; ''you 
might strain your eyes!” Then he set the dog on the 
witch’s apron. But when he saw the silver money in 
the chest, he threw away all the copper money he had 
taken, and filled his pockets and his knapsack with silver 
only. Then he went into the third chamber. Oh, but 
that was truly too fearful to look at! The dog there 
really had eyes as big as the Round Tower, and they 
turned round and round in his head like wheels. 

"Good evening!” said the soldier, touching his cap, 
for he had never before seen such a dog. But when he 
had looked at him a little while, he thought, ''Well, 
here goes,” so he set the dog on the apron and opened 
the chest. My! what a quantity of gold was there! 
He could buy the whole city with it, the cake woman’s 
entire stock of sweets, and all the tin soldiers, whips, 
and rocking-horses in the whole world. What a quantity 
of money! The soldier threw away all the silver coins 
with which he had filled his pockets and his knapsack, 
and replaced them with gold; he filled even his boots 
and his cap, so that he could scarcely walk. Now, 
indeed, he had plenty of money. He put the dog back 
on the chest, slammed the door, and then called up 
through the tree, ‘‘Now pull me up, old witch.” 

‘‘Are you bringing the tinder-box?” asked the witch. 

"That’s so!” exclaimed the soldier. ‘‘I forgot it 


THE TINDER-BOX 


87 


completely/* And back he went and found it. 

The witch then drew him up, and there he stood on 
the highroad with pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap 
full of gold. 

'‘What do you want with the tinder-box?** asked the 
soldier. 

"That*s nothing to you,** replied the witch. "You 
have yoiu* money — now give me the tinder-box.** 

"Nonsense!** said the soldier. "Tell me directly 
what you want with it, or I *11 draw my sword and cut 
off your head.** 

"No!** cried the witch. 

So the soldier struck off her head and there she lay. 
Then he tied up all his money in her apron, took it on 
his back like a sack, put the tinder-box in his pocket, 
and went straight off to the city. 

That certainly was a splendid town! The soldier 
put up at the very best inn, asked for the finest rooms, 
and ordered his favorite dishes, for now with all his 
money he was very rich. The servant who had to clean 
his boots thought them a remarkably old pair for such 
a rich gentleman, but you see he had not yet bought 
any new ones. The next day he procured proper boots 
and handsome clothes. Thus our soldier had become 
a fine gentleman; and the people told him of all the noted 
sights of their city, about the King, and about the beauty 
of the King*s daughter. 

"How can one get to see her?** asked the soldier. 

"She is not to be seen at all,** said they; "she lives 
in a great copper castle with many towers, surrounded by 
high walls. No one but the King may go in and out, for it 
has been told in her fortxme that the Princess will marry 


88 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


a common soldier, and the King intends to prevent that.” 

”rd like to get a look at her,” thought the soldier, 
though that, he knew, was entirely out of the question. 
He lived a merry life, went to the theater, drove in the 
King’s garden, and gave much money to the poor; and 
that was very nice of him. He remembered how hard 
it had once been when he had not a single penny. Now 
he was rich and had fine clothes. He won many friends, 
who all said he was a rare fellow and a true gentleman; 
and that pleased the soldier very much. 

But, as he spent money every day and never earned 
any, he had at last only two pennies left and was obliged 
to move out of the fine rooms in which he had lived, to 
a little tiny garret way up imder the roof. He had to 
clean his own boots, and mend them with a darning 
needle, and none of his former friends came to see him, 
for there were so many stairs to climb. 

One dark evening he could not even buy a candle. 
Then it occtured to him that there was a little piece of 
candle in the tinder-box that he had taken out of the 
hollow tree into which the witch had helped him. He 
brought out the tinder-box and foimd the candle-end. 
But as soon as he struck fire and the sparks flew from the 
flint, the door burst open, and the dog with eyes as big 
as tea-cups, the dog he had seen under the tree, stood 
before him. 

”What are my lord’s commands?” said the dog. 

'‘What’s that!” exclaimed the soldier. “This is 
certainly a wonderful tinder-box, if I can get everything I 
want with it ! Bring me some money, ’ ’ said he to the dog. 
Whisk! the dog was gone; and whisk! he was back again, 
with a great bag full of copper shillings in his mouth. 



The Queen made a lovely little bag 


Page 90 





THE TINDER-BOX 


89 


Now the soldier knew what a valuable tinder-box 
it was. If he struck once, the dog that sat on the chest 
of copper money would come; if he struck twice, the dog 
that watched the silver came; and if he struck three 
times, then appeared the dog that guarded the gold. 
Now the soldier moved back into the fine rooms, and 
appeared again in handsome clothes. Immediately all his 
friends knew him and thought very much of him, indeed. 

*'It is a very strange thing that one cannot get to 
see the Princess,'' he thought one day. Everybody 
says that she is very beautiful; but what good is that 
if she has to sit locked up in that great copper castle 
with the many towers? Can I not manage to see her 
somehow? Where is my tinder-box?" He struck fire, 
and whisk ! there was the dog with eyes as big as tea-cups. 

admit that it is rather late at night," said the 
soldier, ''but I should very much like to see the Princess 
for just a moment." 

The dog was out of the door in a flash and, before 
the soldier had time to think, he saw it returning with 
the Princess. She was seated on the dog's back, and 
she was so lovely that any one could see she was a real 
Princess. The soldier could not refrain from kissing 
her, for, you see, he was a thorough soldier. 

The dog ran back again with the Princess, but when 
morning came, and the King and Queen were drinking 
tea, the Princess told them she had had such a strange 
dream during the night, about a dog and a soldier; that 
she had ridden upon the dog, and that the soldier had 
kissed her. 

"That is a fine state of affairs!" said the Queai. 

So one of the old Court ladies was ordered to watch 


90 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


by the Princess* bed the next night, to see if this was 
really a dream, or what it could be. 

The soldier felt a great longing to see the lovely 
Princess again; so the dog came during the night, took 
her away, and ran as fast as he could. But the old lady 
put on water-boots, and ran just as fast after him. 
When she saw that they entered a great house, she 
thought, *'Now I know where it is”; and with a piece 
of chalk she made a large cross on the door. Then she 
went home and to bed, and the dog returned with the 
Princess, also. But when he saw that there was a cross 
drawn on the door where the soldier lived, he, too, took 
a piece of chalk and marked all the doors in the town with 
crosses. That was a clever thing to do, for now the 
Court lady could not find the right door, since there 
were crosses on them all. 

Early in the morning the King and the Queen, the 
old Court lady, and all the officers went out to see where 
the Princess had been. 

“Here it is!” said the King, when he saw the first 
door with a cross upon it. 

“No, my dear husband, it is here!’* said the Queen, 
who saw another door which also showed a cross. 

“But there is one, and there is one!” they all cried; 
wherever they looked were crosses on the doors. Then 
they knew that it would do no good to seek farther. 

But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, 
who could do more than ride in a coach. She took her 
great gold scissors, cut a large piece of silk into pieces, 
and made a lovely little bag; this bag she filled with fine 
buckwheat grains, and tied it on the Princess* back; 
when that was done, she cut a little hole in the bag, 


THE TINDER-BOX 


91 

so that the grains would nin cut all along the way 
wherever the Princess might be carried. 

In the night the dog came again, took the Princess 
on his back, and ran with her to the soldier, who loved 
her very much, and would so gladly have been a prince, 
that he might have her for his wife. 

The dog did not notice how the grain ran out in a 
stream from the castle to the windows of the soldier’s 
house, where he ran up the wall with the Princess. In 
the morning the King and Queen saw well enough where 
their daughter had been, and they arrested the soldier 
and put him in prison. 

There he sat. Oh, how dark and disagreeable it was! 
^‘To-morrow you are to be hanged,” they told him. 
That was not an amusing thing to hear, and, worst of 
all, he had left his tinder-box at the inn. In the morning, 
between the iron bars of the little window he saw the 
people hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He 
heard the drums beat and saw the soldiers marching. 
Everybody was nmning, and among them a shoemaker’s 
boy, wearing his leather apron and slippers. He went at 
such a gallop that one of his slippers flew off, and struck 
right against the wall where the soldier sat looking 
through the bars. 

” Halloo, boy! you needn’t be in such a hurry,” cried 
the soldier. ” Nothing will happen until I arrive. Look 
here, if you will run to the place where I used to live, 
and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings; 
but you must put your best leg foremost.” 

The shoemaker’s boy wanted the four shillings, so 
away he went after the tinder-box, brought it to the 
soldier and — well, now just listen! 


92 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Outside the town a great gallows had been erected, 
and around it stood the soldiers and many htmdred 
thousand people. The King and Queen sat on a splendid 
throne, opposite the Judges and the whole Council. 
The soldier already stood on the platform; but as they 
were about to put the rope roimd his neck, he said that 
always, before a poor sinner suffered his punishment, 
any innocent request of his was granted. He wanted 
very much to smoke a pipe of tobacco, as it would be 
the last pipe he would smoke in this world. 

The King would not say *'No” to this, so the sol- 
dier took his tinder-box and struck fire. One — two — 
three! and there stood all the dogs — the one with eyes 
as big as tea-cups, the one with eyes lilce mill-wheels, 
and the one whose eyes were as big as the Roimd Tower. 

“Now help me, so I won’t have to be hanged,” said 
the soldier. And the dogs fell upon the Judges and all 
the Council, seized one by the leg and another by the 
nose, and tossed them many feet into the air, so they 
fell down and were broken all to pieces. 

“I will not!” cried the King; but the biggest dog 
took both him and the Queen and threw them after the 
others. Then the soldiers were afraid, and all the people 
cried, “Little soldier, you shall be our King, and marry 
the beautiful Princess!” 

So they put the soldier into the King’s coach, and 
all three dogs danced ahead of it shouting “Hurrah!” 
The boys whistled through their fingers, and the soldiers 
presented arms. The Princess came out of the copper 
castle and became Queen, and she liked that very much. 
The wedding festivities lasted a week, and the three 
dogs set at the table, too, and made big eyes. 


THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE 
CHIMNEY SWEEP 


Have you ever seen a very old wooden cupboard, 
quite black with age and decorated with carved flourishes 
and foliage? Just such a cupboard once stood in a 
living room. It was inherited from great-great-grand- 
mother, and was carved from top to bottom with roses 
and tulips. There were some of the queerest flourishes 
imaginable, and among them stuck out little stags* heads 
with many antlers. But carved right in the center of the 
cupboard stood a whole man. He certainly was a comi- 
cal sight. And laugh he did, though it could hardly 
be called a laugh. It was, rather, a very broad grin. 

This man had goat’s legs, little horns on his forehead, 
and a long beard. The children in the room always called 
him the Billy-Goat-Legs-Major-and-Lieutenant-General- 
War-Commander Sergeant. That was a hard name to 
say and there are not many who get that title. 

But then, too, the fact that he had been carved out, 
you see, was quite a distinction. So there he was. 

He was always looking over at the table under the 
mirror, for there stood a lovely little porcelain Shep- 
herdess. Her shoes were gilded, and her dress prettily 
fastened up with a red rose. And she had a golden hat 
and a shepherd’s crook. She really was very lovely! 
Close by her stood a little Chimney Sweep, also made of 
porcelain, but as black as coal. He was just as clean 
and neat as anybody else, for it was only make-believe 
that he was a chimney sweep. The porcelain worker 


93 


94 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


could just as well have made a prince out of him, for 
that was all the same! 

There he stood with his ladder, very prettily, and with 
a face as white and red as any girl’s; and that was really 
a fault for he might well have been just a little bit sooty. 
He stood quite close to the Shepherdess. They had both 
been placed where they stood, and since they had been 
put so, they naturally had become engaged. They were 
suited to each other, they were yoimg, they were made of 
the same kind of porcelain, and both were equally fragile. 

Close by them stood still another figure that was 
three times as large as they. It was an old Chinaman, 
who could nod his head. He, too, was porcelain, and 
he maintained that he was grandfather to the little 
Shepherdess. But that, of course, he could not prove. 
He insisted that he had authority over her, and for that 
reason he had nodded to the Billy-Goat-Legs-Major-and- 
Lieutenant-General-War-Commander-Sergeant, who was 
courting the little Shepherdess. 

'' In him you will find a husband,*' said the old China- 
man, ‘‘a husband that I almost believe is of mahogany. 
He can make you Mrs. Billy-Goat-Legs-Major-and-Lieu- 
tenant-General-War-Commander-Sergeant. He has the 
whole cupboard full of silverware, besides what he keeps 
in secret places!” 

will not go into that dark cupboard!” said the 
little Shepherdess. ”I have heard it said that he has 
eleven porcelain wives in there!” 

“Then you can be the twelfth!*- said the Chinaman. 
“To-night as soon as a snapping and cracking is heard 
in the old cupboard, you shall be married as sure as I am a 
Chinaman! ” and then he nodded his head and fell asleep. 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY SWEEP 95 

But the little Shepherdess wept and looked at her 
heart's best beloved, the porcelain Chimney Sweep. 

“I think I will ask you," she said, ''to take me with 
you out into the wide world, for here we cannot stay!" 

“ I want to do ever3rthing that you want to do I " said 
the little Chimney Sweep. "Let us go immediately. I 
know I can support you with my profession’" 

"If we were only safely down off the table!" she said. 
" I shall not be happy until we are out in the wide world ! " 

He comforted her and showed her how she should 
put her little foot on the projecting points and the gilded 
foliage carved on the table leg. He also used his ladder 
to help her, and there they were, down on the floor. 
But when they looked over at the old cupboard there 
was such a commotion! All the carved stags stuck their 
heads farther out, raising their antlers and turning their 
necks. TheBilly-Goat-Legs-Major-and-Lieutenant-Gen- 
erabWar-Commander-Sergeant jumped high in the air, 
and shouted to the old Chinaman, "They are running 
away! They are nmning away!" 

That made them a little frightened and they sprang 
up quickly into the drawer of the window seat. 

There lay three or four decks of playing cards, which 
were not complete, and a little doll-theater, which had 
been raised up as well as was possible in the drawer. A 
play was being acted, and all the queens, diamonds and 
hearts, clubs and spades, sat in the first row fanning 
themselves. Behind them stood all the jacks, each with 
a head both above and below, just as playing cards have. 
The play was about a couple who could not have each 
other, and the Shepherdess wept because it was so like 
her own story. 


96 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


cannot bear to look at this!” she said. ''I have 
to get out of the drawer!” But when they got down on 
the floor again they saw that the Chinaman was awake 
and was rocking back and forth with his whole body. 
You see, down below he was all one solid lump! 

”Here comes the old Chinaman!” screamed the 
Shepherdess, and then she fell right down on her flne 
porcelain knee, she was so unhappy. 

”I have an idea!” said the Chimney Sweep. Shall 
we crawl down into that big vase standing in the comer? 
There we could lie on roses and lavender and throw salt 
in his eyes when he comes.” 

”That is not enough!” she answered. ” Besides, I 
know that the Chinaman and the vase have been engaged, 
and there is always a little kindly feeling left when people 
have been in such relations with each other! No, there 
is nothing left to do but to go out into the wide world!” 

“Have you really the courage to go with me out into 
the wide world?” asked the Chimney Sweep. “Have 
you considered how great it is, and that we can never 
come back here again!” 

“That I have!” she said. 

The Chimney Sweep looked straight into her eyes, 
and then he said, “My way lies through the chimney! 
Have you really the courage to crawl with me through 
the stove, through the Are box, and through the stove 
pipe? Then we get out into the chimney and there I 
know how to get along. We climb so high that they 
cannot reach us, and farthest up is a hole that leads out 
to the wide world!” 

Then he led her over to the door of the stove. 

“It looks black!” she said, but still she went with 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY SWEEP 97 

him, through the fire box and through the stove pipe, 
where it was as dark as the blackest night. 

'‘Now we are in the chimney!” he said, "and look! 
look there! up yonder shines the most beautiful star!” 

It was really one of the stars of the sky which was 
shining down on them as if to show them the way. Up 
they went. They crept and they crawled; it seemed a 
fearful distance, up, up, so very far. But he lifted and 
helped her, supporting her and showing her the best 
places to put her little porcelain feet. And then at last 
they reached the very edge of the chimney top. There 
they seated themselves, for they were really very tired, 
and well they might be. 

The sky with all its stars was above them and all the 
roofs of the city lay below. They could look far around 
them out into the wide world. The poor Shepherdess 
had never imagined it to be like that. She laid her little 
head against the Chimney Sweep and wept so that the 
gold cracked off her girdle. 

"This is too much!” she said. "I cannot bear it! 
The world is much too large! If I were only back on the 
little table below the mirror! I shall never be happy 
until I am back there again! I have followed you out 
into the wide world and now you ought to take me home 
again if you care anything at all for me!” 

The Chimney Sweep talked sensibly to her; spoke 
about the old Chinaman and about the Billy-Goat-Legs- 
Maj or - and - Lieutenant - General - War - Commander - Ser- 
geant. But she sobbed so dreadfully and kissed her little 
Chimney Sweep so tenderly, that he could not do other- 
wise than she wished, although it was foolish. 

Then, with much difficulty, they crawled down the 
7 


98 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


chimney again and crept through the stove pipe and the 
fire box — it was not at all pleasant — and there they 
were in the dark stove. They listened from behind 
the door to find out how matters stood in the room. It 
was very quiet. They peeped out — alas, there in the 
middle of the floor lay the old Chinaman. He had fallen 
off the table when he started after them, and there he 
lay, broken into three pieces. His back had come off 
in one piece, and his head had rolled away into a corner. 
The Billy - Goat - Legs - Major - and - Lieutenant - General - 
War-Commander-Sergeant stood where he always had, in 
deep meditation. 

“It is terrible!” said the little Shepherdess. “Old 
grandfather is broken to pieces, and it is our fault! I 
can never survive it ! ” and she wrung her tiny hands. 

“He can still be mended!” said the Chimney Sweep. 
“He can be mended very easily and well! Calm your- 
self! When they glue up his back and put a good rivet 
in the back of his head he will be as good as new again 
and be able to say many disagreeable things to us!” 

“Do you think so?” she cried. Then they crept up 
again on to the table where they had stood before. 

“See how far we got!” said the Chimney Sweep. 
“We might have saved ourselves all that trouble!” 

“If only we had old grandfather riveted!” said the 
Shepherdess. “Can it be so very expensive?” 

And he really did get mended. The family had him 
glued up the back, a good rivet was placed in his neck, 
and then he was as good as new. But nod he could not. 

“You have become quite haughty since you fell 
and broke to pieces!” said the Billy-Goat-Legs-Major- 
and-Lieutenant-General-War-Commander-Sergeant. ‘ ' It 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY SWEEP 99 


does not appear to me to be anything to make so 
awfully much out of ! Am I to have her or am I not 
to have her?’' 

Then the Chimney Sweep and the little Shepherdess 
looked in such a distressed manner at the old Chinaman! 
They were afraid that he would nod, but that you know 
he could not do. And, besides, he found it unpleasant to 
tell a stranger that he had a rivet in the back of his neck. 
So the young porcelain people remained together and 
blessed grandfather’s rivet and loved one another till 
they broke. 


LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS 


poor flowers are quite dead!'' said little Ida. 
‘'They were so pretty last night, and now all the leaves 
hang faded and withered! Why do they do that?" she 
asked the Student, who was sitting on the sofa. She 
liked the Student very much, for he could tell her the 
most wonderful stories and cut such comical flgures out 
of paper — hearts, in the center of which were little ladies 
who danced, flowers, and great castles, the doors of which 
could open and shut. He was a jolly Student indeed! 
"Why do the flowers look so bad to-day?" she asked 
again, and showed him a bimch of flowers that was quite 
withered. 

" Do you know what is the matter with those flowers? " 
said the Student. "They were at a ball last night, and 
that is why they hang their heads so!" 

"But the flowers cannot dance!” said little Ida. 

"Yes, indeed, they can,” said the Student. "When 
it is dark, and we others are asleep, they jump merrily 
about. They have a ball almost every night!" 

"May any children go to that ball?" 

"Oh, yes," said the Student, "the tiny daisies and 
the lilies of the valley!” 

"Where do the most beautiful flowers go to dance?” 
asked little Ida. 

"You have often been outside the town gate near the 
great castle, have you not, there where the king lives 
during the summer, and where the beautiful garden is 
with its many flowers? And you have seen the swans 
which swim toward you when you give them bread 


100 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


lOI 


cnimbs? You may be quite sure that out there some 
very wonderful balls take place.” 

I was out in that garden yesterday with my mother,” 
said Ida. '‘But there were no leaves on the trees, and 
there was not a single flower left! Where are they? 
Last summer I saw so many!” 

“They are inside the castle,” said the Student. 
“You must know that as soon as the king and all the 
court ladies and gentlemen move to the city, the 
flowers immediately run up out of the garden and into 
the castle, and there they have such merry times! You 
just ought to see! The two most beautiful roses seat 
themselves on the throne. They are the king and queen. 
All the red cockscombs range themselves on each side, 
and bow. They are the chamberlains. Then all the 
most beautiful flowers come in, and the ball begins. 
The blue violets make believe they are naval cadets, 
and dance with the hyacinths and crocuses, which they 
call young ladies! The tulips and the large yellow lilies 
are elderly ladies, who watch over the yoimger set and 
take care that they conduct themselves properly!” 

“But,” asked Httle Ida, “does not any one punish 
the flowers for dancing in the king’s castle?” 

“No one really knows anything about it!” said the 
Student. “Sometimes, of course, the old steward of the 
castle, who has to keep watch there, comes in during 
the night. He carries a great bimch of keys with him, 
but as soon as the flowers hear the rattling of the keys 
they all become very quiet, hiding behind the long cur- 
tains and putting their heads out to peep around. ‘It 
smells like flowers here!’ says the old steward of the 
castle. But he cannot see a single one of them.” 


102 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“That is fine!” said little Ida, clapping her hands. 
“But should not I be able to see the flowers, either?” 

“Oh, yes,” said the Student, “when you go out there 
again just be sure to remember to look through the 
window, and you will certainly see them. That is what 
I did to-day. A long yellow Easter lily lay on the sofa 
stretching herself. She was one of the court ladies!” 

“Can the flowers in the botanical gardens also go out 
there? Are they able to travel that long distance?” 

“Of course they can!” said the Student. “They can 
fly, if they want to! Have you not seen the beautiful 
butterflies, some red, some yellow, and some white, 
that look so much like flowers? That is what they once 
were; but they leaped from their stalks high in the air, 
and beat with their leaves as though they were little 
wings — and away they flew! And because they behaved 
themselves nicely, they were given permission to fly 
about in the daytime, too; they did not have to go home 
again and sit quiet on their stalks. And thus the leaves 
at last became real wings. That you have seen for your- 
self! It might be, however, that the flowers in the 
botanical gardens have never been out at the king’s 
castle, or do not even know that there is such merriment 
there during the night. So now I am going to tell you 
something that will astonish the Professor of Botany 
next door very much. You know him, of comse. When 
you go into his garden you must tell one of the flowers 
that a grand ball takes place at the castle. Then it 
will tell the news to all the others, and away they will 
fly. When the Professor goes to walk in his garden, 
there will not be a single flower, and he will not be able 
to understand where they are.” 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


103 

‘‘But how can the flower tell it to the others? The 
flowers cannot talk!” 

“No, of course they can’t,” answered the Student, 
“but they can make signs. Have you not seen how the 
flowers nod when the wind blows a little, and move all 
their green leaves? That is just as plain as if they talked I ” 

“Can the Professor tmderstand the sign language?” 
asked Ida. 

“Certainly he can! One morning he went down into 
his garden and saw a great stinging nettle make signs 
with its leaves to a pretty red carnation. ‘You are so 
beautiful,’ it said, ‘and I love you very much!’ But 
the Professor does not like such things, and struck the 
leaves off the nettle, for you see they are its fingers. 
But the thorny leaves stung him, and since that time 
he never dares touch a nettle.” 

“That is very amusing!” said little Ida, laughing. 

“What nonsense to put in a child’s head!” said the 
tiresome Coimcilor, who had come to pay a visit and was 
sitting on the sofa. He did not like the Student, and 
always grumbled when he saw him cutting out the queer, 
comical figures. Sometimes it was a man hanging on a 
gibbet and holding a heart in his hand, for he was a heart 
stealer; sometimes an old witch riding on a broomstick 
and carrying her husband on her nose. Such things the 
Councilor could not bear to see, and he would always say, 
as he did now, “What nonsense to put in a child’s 
head! Nothing but stupid fancies!” 

But to little Ida the things the Student told her about 
her flowers were very amusing, and she thought about 
them a great deal. The flowers htmg their heads because 
they were tired after dancing all night; they surely were 


104 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


ill. Then she carried them over to all her other toys, 
which were placed on a pretty little table. The table 
drawer, too, was full of beautiful things. In the doll's 
bed her doll Sophy lay sleeping, but little Ida said to 
her: '‘You .will have to get up, Sophy, and be content 
with a bed in the drawer to-night. The poor flowers are 
sick, and they must sleep in your bed. Perhaps that 
will make them well!" Then she picked up the doll; 
but it looked very cross and did not say a single word. 
Sophy was angry because she could not have her 
own bed. 

Then Ida placed the flowers in the doll’s bed, pulled 
the little coverlet over them, and told them to be nice 
and quiet. She would make them some tea, so that they 
might get well again and be able to get up in the morning. 
Then she pulled the curtains close around the little bed, 
to keep the sim from shining into their eyes. 

All that evening she could not keep from thinking of 
what the Student had told her, and when she was ready 
for bed herself, she first had to look behind the ciutains 
of the windows where her mother’s prettiest flowers 
stood. There were both hyacinths and tulips, and she 
whispered to them very softly: "I know where you are 
going to-night; you are going to the ball!’’ The flowers 
pretended not to understand, and did not stir a leaf. 
But it was not necessary, for little Ida knew what she 
knew. 

After she had got in bed, she lay a long time thinking 
how nice it would be to see the beautiful flowers dancing 
out there in the king’s castle. 

"I wonder if my flowers really have been there?" 
But then she fell asleep. Later in the night she woke 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


X05 


up. She had been dreaming about the flowers, and 
about the Student whom the Councilor always scolded 
because he told her so much nonsense, as he called it. 
It was very quiet in the bedroom where Ida was lying; 
the night lamp was burning on the table, and her father 
and mother were asleep. 

^‘I wonder if my flowers are stiU lying in Sophy’s 
bed?” she thought to herself. '‘Oh, how I should love 
to know!” She raised herself up a little and looked 
toward the door, which stood ajar. There in the other 
room lay the flowers and all her playthings. She listened, 
and then she seemed to hear some one playing the piano 
in the sitting room, but very softly and more beautifully 
than she had ever heard it played before. 

"Now all the flowers must be dancing!” she said. 
"How I should like to see them!” But she did not dare 
get up, for then she would waken her father and mother. 
"Oh, if they would only come in here!” she thought. 
But the flowers did not come, and the music kept on 
playing sweetly. Then at last she could not resist the 
temptation' — the music was too beautiful. She crept 
out of her little bed and, going softly over to the door, 
she peeped into the sitting room. My, but that was a 
curious sight! 

There was no lamp burning in that room, but every- 
thing was quite light. The moon shone in through the 
window halfway across the room. It was almost as 
light as day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood in two 
long rows on the floor. On the windowsill all the flower 
pots stood empty. Down on the floor the flowers danced 
gracefully around one another, made flgures, and held 
each other by the long green leaves when they whirled 


io6 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


around. At the piano sat a large yellow lily which little 
Ida was sure she had seen that summer, for she remem- 
bered that the Student had said: ^‘How like Miss Lina 
that lily is!” But everybody had laughed at him then. 
Now it seemed to Ida, too, that the long yellow flower 
resembled the young lady. It had the same manner of 
playing. Sometimes it bent its long yellow face to one 
side, sometimes to the other, and nodded in tune to the 
beautiful music. No one noticed little Ida. She saw 
a large blue crocus jump up on top of the table, where 
the playthings lay, and walk over to the doll’s bed. It 
drew the curtains aside. There lay the sick flowers, 
but they got up at once and nodded to the others on the 
floor to tell them that they too wished to dance. The 
old chimney sweep, whose lower lip was broken off, stood 
up and bowed to the pretty flowers. They did not look 
at all ill. They jumped down to the others, and enjoyed 
themselves very much. 

Then it soimded as if something fell off the table, and 
when Ida looked she saw that it was the little carnival 
whip that had jumped down. It thought that it, too, 
was one of the flowers. It was really very pretty, and 
at one end was a little wax doll with a broad hat on its 
head just like the one the Cotmcilor wore. The whip 
hopped in among the flowers and stamped very hard, 
for it danced a mazurka, a dance which the other flowers 
could not manage, because they were so light and were 
tmable to stamp. 

The wax doll on the whip handle suddenly grew large 
and tall, spim around over the paper flowers on the rod, 
and shouted loudly: ‘‘What nonsense to put in a child’s 
head! Nothing but stupid fancies!” As he said this. 


LITTLE IDA^S FLOWERS 


107 


the wax doll looked just like the Councilor, with his 
broad hat. It was just as yellow and cross-looking as 
the Councilor. But the paper flowers beat against his 
thin legs, and then he shrank together again and became 
a very little wax doll. It was a very amusing sight, and 
little Ida could not keep from laughing. The whip kept 
on dancing, and the Councilor had to dance too. There 
was no help for it, whether he made himself large and 
tall, or remained the little yellow wax doll with the large 
black hat. Then the other flowers, especially those 
that had slept in Ida's doll bed, pleaded for him, and 
succeeded in getting the whip to stop dancing. At 
that moment a loud knocking sounded from the table 
drawer where Ida's doll Sophy lay with many other toys. 
The chimney-sweep doll ran to the edge of the table, 
lay down flat on his stomach, and succeeded in opening 
the drawer a little way. Sophy rose, and looked around 
in surprise. 

‘'There seems to be a ball here to-night!" she said. 
“Why has no one told me about it?" 

“Will you dance with me?" said the chimney sweep. 

“Well, you would be a fine fellow to dance with, 
wouldn't you!" she said, turning her back on him. 
Then she sat down on the edge of the drawer and thought 
that one of the flowers would surely come and ask her 
to dance. But no one came. Then she coughed, 
hem^a-hem, hem, hemi but still not a single one came 
near. The chimney-sweep doll danced by himself, and 
not so badly, after all. 

When it appeared that none of the flowers saw Sophy, 
she let herself drop from the drawer to the floor, with 
a loud thump. All the flowers came nmning to her. 


io8 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

and asked whether she had hurt herself. They were 
all very nice to her, especially the flowers who had slept 
in her bed. But she was not hurt, and all Ida’s flowers 
thanked Sophy for the soft and comfortable bed, and 
acted very lovingly toward her. They took her into the 
middle of the room, where the moon was shining brightly, 
and danced with her while all the other flowers formed 
a circle around them. Now Sophy was content! And 
she told them that they might keep her bed. She did 
not in the least mind sleeping in the drawer. 

*^We thank you very much,” said the flowers, *^but 
we cannot live long enough to do so! To-morrow we 
shall be quite dead. But tell little Ida to bury us in the 
garden where the canary lies. Then we shall grow up 
again next summer, and become still more beautiful!” 

”No, no, you must not die!” said Sophy, kissing the 
flowers. At that moment the hall door opened and a 
host of beautiful flowers came dancing in. Ida could not 
understand where they had all come from. They surely 
must be the flowers from the king’s castle! First of all 
walked two beautiful roses, with little gold crowns on 
their heads; they were the king and queen. Then came 
the prettiest of stocks and carnations, bowing to all sides. 
They had brought music with them. Large poppies and 
peonies blew on pea pods until they were all red in the 
face. The bluebells and the little white snowdrops 
tinkled like sleigh bells. That was grand music! Then 
many other flowers came, and they all danced, the blue 
violets and the red primroses, the daisies and the lilies 
of the valley. And all the flowers kissed one another. 
It was a very pretty sight. 

At last the flowers bade one another good night, and 


LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS 


109 

little Ida tiptoed back to bed, where she dreamed about 
all she had seen. 

When she got up next morning she, hurried to the 
little table to see if the flowers were still there. She drew 
the curtains of the little bed aside and — yes, there lay 
all her flowers; but they were very withered, much more 
so than the day before. Sophy lay in the drawer, where 
she had put her; she looked very sleepy. 

“Do you remember what you were to tell me?” said 
little Ida. But Sophy looked very stupid, and said 
not a single word. 

“You are not good,” said Ida; “and they all danced 
with you, too!” Then she took a little paper box on 
which beautiful birds were painted, opened it, and placed 
the dead flowers inside. “This shall be your pretty 
coffln,” she said. “Later, when my cousins come over, 
they shall help bury you in the garden, so that you 
may grow up next summer and become more beautiful!” 

The cousins were merry boys, named Jonas and 
Adolph. Their father had given them two new cross- 
bows, and these they brought with them to show to Ida. 
She told them about the poor flowers that were dead. 
They obtained permission to bury the flowers, and both 
the boys walked in front with the crossbows on their 
shoulders. Little Ida followed, carrying the dead flowers 
in the pretty box. In the garden a little grave was dug. 
Ida kissed the flowers, laid them in the little box, and 
placed it in the ground; then Adolph and Jonas shot with 
their crossbows over the grave, for they had neither 
rifles nor cannon. 


THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES 


Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so 
inordinately fond of fine new clothes that he paid out 
all his money for the sole purpose of being particularly 
well dressed. He cared nothing for his soldiers, he cared 
not a whit about the theater, or for driving in the park, 
except alone that he might show off his new clothes. 
He had a garment for every hoiu: of the day, and just as 
they usually say of a king, He is in the coimcil chamber,'' 
they always said of this Emperor, **He is in his clothes 
cabinet.” 

The great city in which he lived was very gay, and 
every day visitors came in large numbers. One day 
two swindlers, who gave themselves out as weavers, 
arrived, saying that they knew how to weave the loveliest 
cloth that any one could imagine. Not only were the 
colors and the pattern something extraordinarily beauti- 
ful, but the clothes which were made of the cloth they 
wove had this wonderful property: they became invisible 
to every person who was unfit for his office or was too 
stupid for any use. 

“They woiild certainly be fine clothes to have,” 
thought the Emperor; “by wearing them, I could find 
out what men in my empire were not fit for the positions 
they hold; I could tell the wise from the stupid! By all 
means, that cloth must be woven for me at once.” And 
he gave the two rogues a great deal of ready money with 
which to begin their work. 

They immediately set up two looms and pretended 
to be working. But they had nothing at all on the frame. 


no 


THE EMPEROR^S NEW CLOTHES in 


They called continually for the finest silks and the purest 
and brightest gold. This they put into their own pockets 
and worked away at the empty looms, even keeping it 
up far into the night. 

*‘I should really like to know how they are getting 
on with the cloth!’' thought the Emperor. But he had 
a slightly imeasy feeling in the region of his heart when 
he remembered that any one who was stupid or was ill 
suited to his office would not be able to see it. Of 
course he was sure that he needed to have no fears 
about himself, but still he wanted to send some one first, 
to see how matters stood. 

Everybody in the whole city heard of the wonderful 
power that lay in the cloth, and everybody was eager to 
see how bad or how stupid his neighbor was. 

will send my honest old minister to the weavers!” 
thought the emperor. ‘^He can best see how the fabric 
looks, for he has sense and intelligence, and no one ful- 
fills his duties better than he!” 

So the good old minister entered the room where the 
two rascals sat working at the empty looms. 

” Mercy on us!” thought the old minister, opening 
his eyes wide, can’t see a thing!” 

But he did n’t say it aloud. 

Both the rascals begged him to come nearer and asked 
if he did n’t think the pattern was beautiful and the 
colors lovely. Then they pointed to the empty frame 
and the poor old minister stared and stared and opened 
his eyes still wider. But he could see nothing, for there 
was nothing. 

^^Good gracious,” he thought, it possible that I 
am stupid! I never have thought so, and I am certain 


II2 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


no one else thinks so! Is it possible I am not fit for my 
office! No, no, it certainly would never do to say I 
cannot see the cloth/' 

'‘Well, sir, you have n’t said anything about it!” said 
the rascal who had continued to weave. 

‘‘Oh, it is beautiful! Perfectly lovely!” said the 
old minister, looking through his spectacles. ‘‘What a 
pattern, and what colors! — yes, yes, I shall tell the 
Emperor that it pleases me beyond measure!” 

‘‘Well, we are glad to hear that!” said both [the 
weavers. 

Then they named all the colors, one by one, and 
described that ghostly pattern. The old minister lis- 
tened closely, so that he would be able to repeat it exactly 
when he got back to the Emperor. And repeat it he 
did. 

Now the swindlers demanded more money, and more 
silk and gold, which they had to use in their work, they 
said. All of this, too, went into their own pockets. Not 
a single thread was ever put on the looms, but still they 
continued to weave, as before, at the empty loom. 

The Emperor sent another faithful official to see how 
the weaving was progressing and if the fabric would soon 
be finished. With him it fared as it had with the min- 
ister. He looked and stared, and looked again, but as 
there was nothing but the empty loom, he, of course, saw 
nothing. 

‘‘Now isn’t that a beautiful piece of cloth?” asked 
both the rogues, and they pointed out the beauties of 
the pattern which was npt there at all. 

‘‘Stupid I am not!” thought the man. “It must be 
that I am not fit for my good office! It is certainly very 


THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES 


113 

queer! But of course I must not give myself away!” 

Then he praised the cloth he did not see, and assured 
the weavers of his delight at the exquisite colors and the 
artistic pattern. 

”It is just too dear for anything,” he told the 
Emperor. 

Everybody in town talked about the splendid fabric. 
And now the Emperor wanted to see it himself while it 
was still on the loom. So, accompanied by a whole train 
of chosen men, among whom were the two honest old 
officials who had been there before, he went to visit the 
crafty rascals, who were weaving with might and main, 
without the smallest bit of a thread. 

” Is n’t it magnificent!” cried the two honest officials. 
“Just look, your majesty, what a splendid pattern! 
What wonderful colors!” and they pointed to the empty 
loom, for they thought the others siurely would be able 
to see the cloth. 

“What’s this!” thought the emperor. “I don’t 
see anything! This is dreadful! Am I stupid? Am I 
not fit to be Emperor? This is the most dreadful thing 
that could happen to me!” 

“Oh, it is very beautiful indeed!” said the Emperor 
aloud. “It has my unqualified approval!” 

He nodded his head in a satisfied manner and regarded 
the empty loom, for never would he say that he could not 
see anything. The whole retinue that had followed him 
stared and stared, but with no better results than the 
others had. Yet, although they saw nothing, they all 
exclaimed just as the Emperor had done, “Oh, it is very 
beautiful, indeed!” They advised him urgently to have 
clothes made of this splendid new cloth, and to wear 


8 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


114 

them for the first time in the great procession which was 
soon to take place. 

'‘That is magnificent, wonderful, superb!'' was the 
cry that went from mouth to mouth. Everybody was 
perfectly pleased with the suggestion. Both the rascals 
were knighted by the Emperor, who gave each of them a 
cross to wear in his buttonhole and bestowed on them 
the title of Knight Weavers. 

All night before the day the procession was to take 
place the two rogues sat up at their work. They had 
more than sixteen candles lighted, and people could see 
that they must be very busy and hurrying to get the 
Emperor's new clothes ready for the morrow. 

They pretended to take the fabric from the loom; they 
cut in the empty air with great shears; they stitched 
away with threadless needles; and finally they said, "At 
last the clothes are ready!" 

The Emperor himself, accompanied by his most dis- 
tinguished comtiers, now arrived, and each of the rogues 
lifted one arm in the air as if he were holding up 
something for inspection. 

"See," they said, "here are the trousers! Here is 
the coat! Here is the mantle!" and so forth and so on. 
"It is as light as gossamer! A person would think that 
he had on nothing at all; but that is its greatest merit!" 

"Of coiurse!" said all the courtiers. But they could 
see nothing, for there was nothing to see. 

"Will yotur Imperial Majesty now graciously con- 
descend to take off yoiu* clothes? ’ ’ said the rogues. ' ‘ Then 
we shall put on the new ones for you, over here before 
this big mirror!" 

The Emperor took off all his clothes, and the rascals 


THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES 115 

acted as if they were handing him, piece by piece, the 
new suit which they pretended to have woven. They 
reached around his waist and pretended to fasten 
something. It was the train, they said, and the Emperor 
turned and twisted in front of the mirror as if to view 
the effect from all sides. 

^‘My, how becoming they are! How well they 
fit!” said everybody. “What a pattern! What colors! 
What splendid garments they are!” 

“They are waiting at the door with the canopy which 
is to be carried over your Majesty in the procession!” 
said the master-in-chief of ceremonies. 

“Well, I am all ready, you see!” said the Emperor. 
“Don’t they hang well?” And he turned around once 
more before the mirror! For he wanted it to appear 
as if he were looking closely at all his finery. 

The chamberlains who were to carry the train 
fumbled on the floor with their hands as if they were 
picking it up. Then they walked along holding their 
hands high. They did not dare let it be known that 
they could see nothing. 

And so the Emperor marched in the procession imder 
the beautiful canopy and everybody on the street and 
in the windows cried out: “The Emperor’s new clothes 
are peerless ! What a beautiful train ! How wonderfully 
they fit!” 

No one would let it be known that he saw nothing, 
for that would have meant that he was imfit for his 
office, or else that he was very stupid. No clothes that 
the Emperor had ever worn had been such a success. 

“But he has nothing on!” said a little child. 

“Just listen to the innocent!” said the child’s father. 


ii6 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

But one person whispered to another what the child 
had said. 

“He has nothing on; a little child says he has noth- 
ing on!” 

“But he really hasn’t anything on!” at last shouted 
all the people. The Emperor had a creepy feeling, for 
it seemed to him that they were right. But then he 
thought within himself, “I must carry the thing out and 
go through with the procession.” 

So he bore himself still more proudly, and the cham- 
berlains walked along behind him carrying the train 
which was not there at all. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

In Seven Stories 

THE FIRST STORY 

Which Treats of the Mirror and the Fragments 

Now then, we are ready to begin. When we have 
reached the end of the story we shall know more than 
we do now. 

He was an evil goblin. He was one of the very worst, 
for he was the demon himself. 

One day he was in a very good humor, for he had made 
a mirror that had this peculiarity — everything good 
and beautiful that was reflected in it shrank to almost 
nothing, but whatever was worthless and ugly became 
prominent and looked worse than it really was. The 
loveliest landscapes, seen in this mirror, looked like boiled 
spinach, and the best people became hideous, or stood 
on their heads and had no bodies; their faces were so 
distorted as to be unrecognizable, and a single freckle 
appeared to spread out over nose and mouth. That 
was very amusing, the demon said. When a good, 
pious thought passed through any person’s mind, it was 
shown in the mirror as a grin, so that the demon had to 
chuckle at his artful invention. 

Those who visited the goblin school — for he kept a 
goblin school — declared everywhere that a wonder had 
been wrought. For now, they asserted, one could see, 
for the first time, how the world and the people in it 
really looked. They scurried about with the mirror, 
imtil there was not a country or a person in the whole 


117 


ii8 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

world that had not appeared all twisted up in it. Now 
they wanted to fly up to heaven also, so as to make fun 
of the angels themselves. The higher they flew with 
the mirror the more it grinned; they could scarcely hold 
it. Higher and higher they flew, and then the mirror 
shook so terribly because of its grinning that it fell out 
of their hands down to the earth, where it was shattered 
into a htmdred million billion, and still more, fragments. 

And now this mirror occasioned much more imhappi- 
ness than before, for some of the fragments were scarcely 
the size of a grain of sand; these flew about in the wide 
world, and whenever they got into anyone’s eye they 
stuck there, and such persons then saw everything 
wrongly, or had only eyes for the bad side of things, for 
every little fragment of the mirror had retained the same 
power the whole glass had possessed. A few persons 
even got a fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and 
that was terrible indeed, for such a heart became a lump 
of ice. A few fragments of the mirror were so large that 
they were used as window panes; but it was a bad thing 
to look at one’s friends through these panes. Other 
pieces were made into spectacles, and when people put 
on these, for the purpose of seeing aright and being just, 
things went badly, and the demon laughed till his paunch 
shook, for it tickled him so. 

But some little fragments of this glass still floated 
about in the air — and now we shall hear 

THE SECOND STORY 
A Little Boy and a Little Girl 

In the great city, where there are so many houses 
and so many people that there is not room enough for 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


119 

everyone to have a little garden, and where, conse- 
quently, most persons are obliged to be content with a 
few flowers in flower pots, were two little children, who 
possessed a garden somewhat larger than a flower pot. 
They were not brother and sister, but they loved each 
other quite as much as if they had been. Their parents 
lived opposite each other in two garrets. Just where 
the roof of one house met that of the neighboring house, 
and where the water-pipe ran along the eaves, two little 
windows faced each other. One had only to step across 
the pipe to get from one window to the other. 

The parents of the children had each a great box in 
which grew the kitchen herbs that they used, and a little 
rosebush — there was one in each box, and they grew 
luxuriantly. Now it occurred to the parents to place 
the boxes across the pipe, where they almost reached 
from one window to the other, and looked quite like two 
embankments of flowers. Pea vines himg down over 
the sides of the boxes, and the rosebushes shot forth 
long branches, which clustered round the windows and 
bent down toward one another; it was almost like a 
triumphal arch of flowers and leaves. As the boxes 
were very high, and the children knew they must not 
crawl up on them, they often had permission to step 
out on the roof and sit on their little stools under the 
roses; and there they could play capitally together. 

In the winter time there was an end to this amuse- 
ment. The windows were sometimes entirely frosted 
over. But then the children warmed copper shillings 
on the stove and held the warm coins against the frozen 
panes. This made fine peep-holes, as roimd as roimd 
could be, and through them peeped sweet little eyes. 


120 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


one at each window; and those eyes belonged to the little 
boy and the little girl. The boy’s name was Kay and 
the little girl’s was Gerda. 

In the summer they could get to one another at one 
botmd, but in the winter, while the snowflakes were 
crowding thick and fast outside, they had to go first down 
and then up the many stairs. 

Those are the white bees swarming,” said the old 
grandmother, looking out at the flying snowflakes. 

“Have they also a queen bee?” asked the little boy. 
For he knew that there is a queen bee among the real bees. 

“Yes, they have,” said grandmother. “She always 
flies where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of 
them all, and never remains quiet on the groimd; she 
flies up again into the black cloud. Many a winter’s 
night she flies through the streets of the town, and looks 
in at the windows, and then the panes freeze in a strange 
way as if covered with flowers.” 

“Yes, I’ve seen that!” cried both the children, and 
they knew that it was true. 

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little 
girl. 

“Just let her come,” cried the boy; “I’ll set her on 
the warm stove, and then she’ll melt.” 

Grandmother smoothed his hair, and told some other 
tales. 

In the evening, when little Kay was at home and half 
undressed, he clambered up on the chair by the window, 
and peeped out through the little hole. A few flakes 
of snow were falling outside, and one of them, the largest 
of all, remained lying on the edge of one of the flower 
boxes. The snowflake grew larger and larger, and at 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


I2I 


last became a maiden clothed in the finest white gauze, 
that seemed put together of millions of starry flakes. 
She was beautiful and delicate, but of ice — of shining, 
glittering ice. Yes, she was alive; her eyes glittered like 
two shining stars, but there was no peace or rest in them. 
She nodded toward the window, and beckoned with her 
hand. The little boy was frightened, and sprang down 
from the chair; then it seemed as if a great bird flew by 
outside, in front of the window. 

Next day there was a clear frost; then a thaw set in, 
and after that came spring. The sim shone, the foliage 
peeped forth, the swallows built nests, the windows were 
opened, and the children again sat in their little garden 
high up on the roof. 

How splendidly the roses bloomed that summer! 
The little girl had learned a psalm. In it something 
was said about roses, and in singing of roses, she 
thought of her own. She sang it to the little boy, 
and he sang with her: 

Where roses blow in the flowery vale, 

There we the child Jesus shall hail. 

And the little ones held each other by the hand, 
kissed the roses, looked into God’s bright simshine, and 
spoke to it as if the Christ-child were there. What 
splendid stimmer days those were! How beautiful it 
was out among the fresh rosebushes, which seemed as 
if they would never stop blooming! 

Kay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture book 
of animals and birds. Just then it was — the clock on 
the great church tower was striking five — that Kay 
said, ‘'Ouch! I felt a sharp pain in my heart! And 
now something flew into my eye!” 


122 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The little girl put her arm about his neck; he blinked 
his eyes. No, there was nothing at all to be seen. 

“I think it is gone!” said he; but it was not gone. 
It was just one of those glass fragments from that magic 
mirror — the wicked glass in which everything great and 
good which was mirrored in it seemed small and mean, 
and everything mean and wicked was reflected in such a 
way that every fault was noticeable at once. Poor little 
Kay had also received a splinter in his heart, and that 
would soon become like a lump of ice. It did not hurt 
him any longer now, but the splinter was still there. 

‘‘Why do you cry?” he asked. “You look ugly like 
that. There’s nothing the matter with me! Oh, fie!” 
he suddenly exclaimed, “that rose is worm-eaten, and 
see, this one is quite crooked! After all, they’re ugly 
roses. They’re like the box in which they stand!” 

And then he kicked the box hard and tore off the two 
roses. 

“Kay, what are you doing!” cried the little girl. 

When he saw how he frightened her he tore off another 
rose, and then sprang in at his own window away from 
the amiable little Gerda. 

When she came later with her picture book, he said 
it was only fit for musing babies; and when his grand- 
mother told stories he always interrupted with a “but”; 
and when he could manage it, he would even walk along 
behind her, put on a pair of spectacles, and talk just as 
she did; he could do that very cleverly, and people laughed 
at him. Soon he could mimic the speech and gait of 
everybody in the street. Everything that was peculiar 
or ugly about each one, Kay would imitate, and people 
said, “That boy must certainly have a remarkable 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


123 


genius!'' But it was the glass that had entered his eye 
and that stuck deep in his heart. That was why he 
teased even little Gerda, who loved him with all her soul. 

His playing now became much different from what 
it had been ; it was very sensible. One winter's day when 
the snowflakes were flying he came out with a great 
magnifying glass, held up a comer of his blue coat, and 
let the snowflakes fall upon it. 

‘‘Now look through the glass, Gerda!" he said. 

And every flake of snow was magnified and looked 
like a splendid flower, or a star, with ten points; it was 
beautiful to look at. 

‘‘See how wonderful," said Kay. "They are much 
more interesting than real flowers! And there's not a 
single fault in them; they're perfectly regular imtil 
they begin to melt." 

A little while later Kay came out wearing big gloves, 
and with his sled on his back. He shouted right into 
Gerda's ears, "I have permission to go riding in the great 
square where the other boys play," and away he went. 

Yonder in the great square the boldest among the 
boys often tied their sleds to the country people's wagons, 
and rode with them a good way. That was capital 
sport. Now when their fim was at its height, a great 
sleigh came along. It was painted white, and in it sat 
a person wrapped in thick white fur and wearing a white 
fur cap. The sleigh drove twice arotmd the square. 
Kay quickly got his little sled tied to it, and away he 
rode. The sleigh went faster and faster, straight into 
the next street. The person driving turned and nodded 
in a friendly way to Kay, just as if they knew each other. 
Each time when Kay wanted to cast loose his little sled, 


124 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


the stranger nodded again, and then Kay remained 
sitting where he was. Thus he rode on, right out through 
the town gate. 

Then the snow began to fall so rapidly that the little 
boy could not see a hand’s breadth before him as he rode 
along. He hastily dropped the rope, so as to get loose 
from the great sleigh, but it was of no use. His little 
sled was fast bound to the other, and away they went 
like the wind. Then he called out very loudly, but 
nobody heard him; and the snow beat down, and the 
sleigh sped onward. Every now and then it gave a 
leap, and they seemed to be rushing over hedges and 
ditches. The boy was quite frightened. He wanted 
to repeat '‘Our Father,” but could remember nothing 
but the multiplication table. 

The snowflakes became larger and larger; at last they 
looked like great white fowls. All at once they flew 
aside, the great sleigh stopped, and the person riding in 
it rose. It was a lady and Kay saw that her coat and 
cap were made entirely of snow. She was tall and 
slender, and brilliantly white; it was the Snow Queen. 

‘‘We have made good headway!” she said. ‘‘But 
why do you tremble with cold? Creep into my coat!” 
And she seated him beside her in the sleigh, and wrapped 
the white coat round him. He felt as if he had sunk 
into a snowdrift. 

‘‘Are you still cold?” she asked, and then she kissed 
him on the forehead. Oh, that kiss was colder than 
ice! It went right through to his heart, half of which 
was already a lirnip of ice. He felt as if he were about 
to die, but only for a moment. Then he seemed quite 
well, and he no longer felt the cold all about him. 


125 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

*‘My sled! Don’t forget my sled!” 

That was the first thing he thought of; and he saw it 
bound fast to one of the white chickens, which now fiew 
behind him with the sled on its back. The Snow Queen 
kissed Kay once again, and he forgot little Gerda, and 
his grandmother, and all the folks at home. 

”Now you shall have no more kisses,” said she, ”for 
I might kiss you to death!” 

Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could 
not imagine a wiser or lovelier face; she did not appear 
to him to be made of ice now, as she had when she sat 
at the window and beckoned him. In his eyes she was 
perfect; he did not feel at all afraid. He told her that 
he could do mental arithmetic, with fractions even; that 
he knew the number of square miles and the number of 
inhabitants in the coimtry. She always smiled. It seemed 
to him that what he knew was not enough, and he 
looked up into the great open sky. She fiew with him 
then high up on the black cloud; and the storm whistled 
and roared, and it seemed that the wind sang old, old 
songs. They fiew over woods and lakes, over sea and 
land. Below them roared the cold blast, the wolves 
howled, the snow glittered, and black, screaming crows 
fiew past; but above, the moon shone big and bright and 
all through the long winter night Kay gazed up at it. 
Dining the day he slept at the Snow Queen’s feet. 

THE THIRD STORY 

The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Work Enchantments 

But how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay did 
not retiun? What could have become of him? No 
one knew, no one could tell anything about it. The boys 


126 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


knew only that they had seen him tie his sled to another 
very large one which had driven along the street and 
out through the town gate. Nobody knew what had 
become of him; many tears were shed, and little Gerda 
wept long and bitterly. Then they said he was dead, 
that he had been drowned in the river that flowed close 
by the town. Oh, those were very long, dark, wintry 
days! 

But now came the spring with warmer sunshine. 

‘‘Kay is dead and gone,” said little Gerda. 

“I don’t believe it,” said the simshine. 

“He is dead and gone,” said she to the sparrows. 

“We don’t believe it,” they replied; and at last little 
Gerda did not believe it herself. 

“I will put on my new red shoes,” she said one morn- 
ing, “those that Kay has never seen; and then I will go 
down to the river and ask for him.” 

It was still very early. She kissed the old grand- 
mother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and 
went, quite alone, out of the town gate toward the river. 

“Is it true that you have taken my little playmate 
from me? I will give you my red shoes if you will give 
him back to me!” 

It seemed to her that the waves nodded strangely. 
She took her red shoes, her dearest possession, and threw 
them both into the river; but they fell close to the shore, 
and the little wavelets brought them back to the land to 
her. It seemed as if the river would not take from her 
the things she treasured most, because it had not her 
little Kay ; but she thought she had not thrown the shoes 
out far enough; so she crept into a boat that lay among 
the reeds, went to the farthest end, and threw the shoes 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


127 


out into the water. The boat was not tied, and the 
movement she made caused it to glide away from the 
shore. She noticed this, and hurried to get back; but 
before she reached the other end, the boat was a yard 
from the bank and was drifting fast. 

Little Gerda was very much frightened and began to 
cry; but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they 
could not carry her to land; but they flew along by the 
shore, and sang, as if to console her, “Here we are ! Here 
we are!” The boat drifted on with the stream and little 
Gerda, in her stocking feet, sat quite still. Her little 
red shoes floated along behind, but they could not come 
up with the boat, which made more headway. 

It was very pretty along both shores. There were 
beautiful flowers, old trees, and slopes with sheep and 
cows; but not a human being was to be seen. 

“Perhaps the river is carrying me to little Kay,” 
thought Gerda. 

She became more cheerful; she stood up in the boat, 
and for many hours watched the beautiful green shores. 
She floated down to a great cherry orchard in which stood 
a little house with strange blue and red windows. It had 
a straw-thatched roof, and without stood two wooden 
soldiers, who presented arms to those who sailed past. 

Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive, 
but of course they did not answer. She passed quite 
close to them, for the river there carried the boat in 
toward the shore. 

Gerda called still louder, and an old woman leaning 
on a staff resembling a shepherd’s crook came out of the 
house. She had on a great simbonnet, on which were 
painted beautiful flowers. 


128 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘You poor little child!” said the old woman. “How 
did you manage to get out on the great rolling river 
and be carried so far into the wide world?” 

Then the old woman went right into the water and 
seized the boat with the hook on the end of her staff. 
She drew it to land and lifted little Gerda out. Gerda 
was glad to be on dry land again, but she felt a little 
afraid of the strange old woman. 

“ Come, tell me who you are, and how you came to be 
here,” said the old lady. Gerda then told her everything, 
while the old woman shook her head, and said, “Hm! 
hm!” When Gerda had told all, and asked if the old 
vroman had seen little Kay, she was told that he had not 
yet come by, but that he surely would. Gerda was 
not to be sorrowful, but should- look at the flowers and 
taste the cherries, for they were better than those in any 
picture book, for each one of them could tell a story. 
Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her into the 
little house and locked the door. 

The windows were very high, and the panes were red, 
blue, and yellow; inside the daylight shone through these 
windows in the most wondrous colors. On the table 
stood the most luscious cherries, and Gerda ate as many 
of them as she liked, for she had permission to do so. 
While she was eating, the old lady combed her hair with 
a golden comb imtil it clustered in pretty shining, golden 
curls about her round, friendly little face, which looked 
as sweet as a rose. 

“I have long wished for a dear little girl like you,” 
said the old lady. “Now you shall see how well we can 
get along together.” 

And as the old woman combed her hair, Gerda forgot 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


129 


her adopted brother Kay more and more completely; 
for this old woman could cast spells. However, she was 
not a wicked witch. She only practiced a little magic 
for her own amusement, and now she wanted to keep 
little Gerda very much. So she went into the garden, 
stretched out her staff toward all the rosebushes, and, 
beautiful as they were, they all sank into the earth with- 
out leaving a trace to tell where they had stood. The 
old woman was afraid that when the little girl saw the 
roses, she would think of her own, and so remember 
her little playmate and run away. 

Now she took Gerda out into the flower garden. My, 
how fragrant and lovely it was! Every conceivable 
flower of every season was there and in full bloom; no 
picture book could have been gayer and prettier. Gerda 
leaped with joy, and played till the sun went down behind 
the high cherry trees; then she was put into a soft bed, 
with red silk featherbeds, stuffed with blue violets, and 
she slept and dreamed as delightfully as a queen on her 
wedding day. 

The next day she played again in the warm sunshine 
with the flowers; and thus many days went by. Gerda 
knew every flower; but, many as there were of them, it 
still seemed to her as if one were missing, though which 
one she did not know. One day she sat looking at the 
old lady’s simbonnet with the painted flowers; the 
prettiest of them all was a rose. The old lady had for- 
gotten to take it off her bonnet when she had caused the 
others to disappear into the ground. But so it always 
is when one does not keep one’s wits. 

“What, are there no roses here!” cried Gerda, and, 
running in among the flower beds, she searched and 
9 


130 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


searched; but there was not one to be found. Then she 
sat down and wept and her tears fell exactly on a spot 
where a rosebud lay biuied. When the warm tears 
moistened the earth, the rose tree at once sprang up, 
blossoming as when it sank. Gerda embraced it, and 
kissed the roses. She thought of the beautiful roses 
at home, and also of little Kay. 

‘‘Oh, how I have been delayed!” said the little girl. 
“I was to find little Kay! Do you not know where he 
is?” she asked the bees. “Do you think he is dead and 
gone?’' 

“He is not dead,” the roses answered. “You see, 
we have been in the ground, where all the dead are, but 
Kay was not there.” 

“Thank you,” said little Gerda, and she went to the 
other flowers, looked into their chalices, and asked, “Do 
you know where little Kay is?” 

But each little flower stood in the sun, thinking only 
of her own story. Gerda listened to many, many of them ; 
but no flower knew anything of Kay. 

And what did the Tiger-lily say? 

“Do you hear the drum — ‘Rub-dub’? There are 
only two notes, always ‘rub-dub’! Hear the mourning 
song of the women; hear the call of the priests. The 
Hindoo widow in her long red mantle stands on the 
ftmeral pyre; the flames rise aroimd her and her dead 
husband; but the Hindoo is thinking of the living one 
there in the circle, of him whose eyes bum hotter than 
flames, the fire of whose eyes bums into her soul more 
ardently than the flames which are soon to bum her body 
to ashes. Can the heart’s flame die in the flames of the 
funeral pyre?” 


THE SNOW QUEEN 131 

'*1 don't understand that at all!” said little Gerda. 

'‘That’s my story,” said the Lily. 

What says the Convolvulus? 

“ Over the narrow moimtain path hangs an old feudal 
castle; thickly the ivy grows over the crumbling red 
walls, leaf on leaf, up over the balcony, where stands a 
beautiful girl; she bends over the balustrade and gazes 
down the road. No rose on its branch is fresher than she ; 
no apple blossom borne from the tree by the wind, sways 
more lightly than she. How her costly silks rustle! 
‘Why does he not come?’” 

“Is it Kay whom you mean?” asked little Gerda. 

“I’m speaking only of my story — my dream, ’ ’ replied 
the Convolvulus. 

What does the little Snowdrop say? 

“Between the trees hang ropes and a long board; it 
is a swing. Two pretty little girls, with dresses white 
as snow, and long green silk ribbons fluttering from their 
hats, are sitting on it swinging; their brother, who is 
older than they, stands in the swing with his arm around 
the rope to hold himself, for in one hand he has a little 
bowl, and in the other a clay pipe ; he is blowing bubbles. 
The swing flies, and the bubbles rise with beautiful, 
changing colors; the last still hangs from the pipe bowl 
and sways in the wind. The swing flies on; the little 
black dog, light as the bubbles, stands up on his hind 
legs and wants to be taken upon the swing; the swing 
flies on, and the dog falls, barks, and grows angry, for he 
is being teased. The bubbles burst — a swinging board 
and a bursting bubble — that is my song.” 

“What you tell may be very pretty, but you tell it 
so mournfully, and you never mention little Kay!” 


132 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


What do the Hyacinths say? 

‘'There were three beautiful sisters, transparent and 
delicate. The dress of the first was red, that of the 
second blue, and that of the third entirely white; hand in 
hand they danced by the quiet lake in the bright moon- 
light. They were not fairies; they were human beings. 
It was so sweet and fragrant there! The girls disap- 
peared in the forest, and the sweet fragrance became 
stronger; three coffins, the three beautiful maidens lying 
in them, glided from the wood away across the lake; 
fireflies flew about, shining like little hovering lights. 
Are the dancing girls asleep, or are they dead? The 
flower scent says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls 
their knell.” 

“You make me very sorrowful,” said little Gerda. 
“Your scent is so strong that I cannot help thinking of 
the dead maidens. Alas! Is little Kay really dead? 
The Roses have been down in the earth, and they 
say no.” 

“Kling! klang!” tolled the Hyacinth Bells. “We 
are not tolling for little Kay — him we do not know; 
we merely sing our song, the only one we know.” 

And Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming forth 
from the shining green leaves. 

“You are a little bright sun,” said Gerda. “Tell 
me if you know where I may find my playmate.” 

The Buttercup shone gayly, and looked up at Gerda. 
What song could the Buttercup sing? It was not about 
Kay, either. 

“In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm on 
the first day of spring. The sunbeams glided down the 
white wall of the neighboring house; close by grew the 


133 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

first yellow flowers, gleaming like gold in the warm rays 
of the stm. Old grandmother sat out of doors in her 
chair; her granddaughter, a poor, pretty maid-servant, 
came home for a visit; she kissed her grandmother. 
There was gold, heart’s gold, in that blessed kiss — gold 
on the lips, gold on the ground, and gold in the early 
morning beams. See, that’s my little story,” said the 
Buttercup. 

”My poor old grandmother,” sighed Gerda. ”She 
is surely longing for me and grieving for me, just as she 
did for little Kay. But I shall soon go home and take 
Kay with me. There is no use asking the flowers; they 
know only their own songs, and give me no information.” 

Then she tied up her little frock aroimd her, that 
she might run the faster; but the Jonquil struck against 
her leg as she sprang over it. So she stopped to look at 
the tall yellow flower, and said, “Perhaps you know 
something of little Kay.” 

She bent down close to the flower, and what did it say? 

“I can see myself! I can see myself!” said the Jon- 
quil. “Oh! oh! how fragrant I am! Up in the little 
attic room stands a little dancing girl; she stands some- 
times on one foot, sometimes on both; she seems to tread 
on all the world. She’s nothing but an illusion. She 
pours water out of a teapot on a bit of cloth — it is her 
bodice. ^Cleanliness is a fine thing,’ she says; her white 
frock hangs on a hook; it has been washed in the teapot, 
too, and dried on the roof. She puts it on and ties her 
saffron handkerchief roimd her neck, and the dress looks 
all the whiter. Point your toes! Look how she seems 
to stand on a single stalk. I can see myself! I can see 
myself!” 


134 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


don't care at all about that," said Gerda. "You 
need not tell me that." 

And then she ran to the end of the garden. The 
door was closed, but she pushed against the rusty lock, 
and it broke off. The door swimg open, and little Gerda 
ran with naked feet out into the wide world. She looked 
back three times, but no one pursued her. When at 
last she could run no longer, she seated herself on a great 
stone. Looking about her she saw that the summer 
was over — it was late in the autumn; she could not 
notice it in the beautiful garden, where there was always 
sunshine, and flowers of every season were always in 
bloom. 

"Alas! how I have loitered!" said little Gerda. 
"Autumn has come. I must not rest." 

She rose to go on. Oh! how sore and tired her little 
feet were! All around it looked cold and bleak; the 
long willow leaves were quite yellow, and dripped with 
water from the dew; one leaf after another dropped; only 
the sole thorn still bore fruit, but it was sour and set 
the teeth on edge. Oh! how gray and gloomy the wide 
world looked! 


THE FOURTH STORY 
The Prince and Princess 

Gerda was compelled to rest again; then there came 
hopping across the snow, just opposite the spot where 
she was sitting, a great Crow. This Crow stopped a 
long time to look at her, nodding its head. Now it said, 
"Caw! caw! Good-day! good-day!" It could not 
pronounce plainly, but it meant well toward the little 
girl, and asked where she was going all alone in the wide 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


135 


world. The word alone** Gerda understood very well, 
and felt how much it expressed; she told the Crow the 
story of her whole life and fortune, and asked if it had 
not seen Kay. 

And the Crow nodded very gravely, and said: 

' ' That may be ! That may be ! ’ * 

^'What? Do you think so?** cried the little girl; 
and she nearly squeezed the Crow to death and smothered 
it with kisses. 

''Gently, gently!** said the Crow. "I think it may 
be the little Kay; but he must now certainly have 
forgotten you for the Princess.** 

"Does he live with a Princess?** asked Gerda. 

"Yes; listen,** said the Crow. "But it*s so difficult 
for me to speak your language. If you know the crows* 
language, I can tell it much better.** 

"No, that I never learned,’* said Gerda; "but my 
grandmother imderstood it, and could speak it, too. I 
only wish I had learned it.** 

"No matter,** said the Crow. "I will tell as well as 
I can, though that will be very badly." 

And then the Crow told what it knew. 

"In the country in which we now are lives a Princess 
who is wonderfully clever; you see she has read all the 
newspapers in the world and has forgotten them again, 
so clever is she. Not long ago she was sitting on the 
throne — that’s not so pleasant, it is said, as is generally 
supposed — when she began to sing a song; and these 
were the words she sang: 'Why should I not marry?* — 
'Look here,* she said, 'that’s an idea.* And thereupon 
she wanted to marry. But she wanted a man who could 
answer when he was spoken to, not one who could only 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


136 

stand around and look handsome, for that is altogether 
too tiresome. She had all the court ladies summoned. 
When they heard her intention they were much pleased. 
‘I like that,’ said they; ‘I thought about the very same 
thing not long ago.’ You may be sure that every word 
I am telling you is true,” added the Crow. “I have a 
tame sweetheart who goes about freely in the castle, 
and she told me everything.” 

Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for one crow 
always seeks another, and birds of a feather flock together. 

'‘The newspapers appeared directly,” continued the 
Crow, “with a border of hearts and the Princess’ initials. 
They made the announcement that every yoimg man who 
was good-looking had permission to come to the castle 
and speak with the Princess, and he who spoke so that 
one could hear he was at home there, and who spoke 
best, the Princess would choose for her husband. Yes, 
yes,” said the Crow, “you may believe me. It’s as 
true as that I am sitting here. Yoimg men came flocking 
in; there was much crowding, and running to and fro, 
but no one succeeded the first or second day. They were 
all able to speak when they were out in the streets; but 
when they entered at the palace gates and saw the guards 
standing in their silver lace, and on the staircase the 
lackeys in their golden liveries, and beheld the great 
lighted halls, they grew bewildered. Then when they 
stood before the throne on which the Princess sat, they 
could no nothing but repeat the last word she had spoken, 
which, of course, she did not care to hear again. It was 
just as if they had taken some drug and fallen into a 
stupor from which they did not recover imtil they 
reached the street again. Then they certainly could 


137 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

chatter enough. There was a long row of them stretching 
from the town gate to the palace. I went there myself 
to see it,” said the Crow. “They were both hungry and 
thirsty, but from the palace they received not so much as 
a glass of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest had 
brought bread and butter with them, but they would 
not share with their neighbors, for they thought, *Just 
let him look hungry, and the Princess won't choose him.' ” 

“But Kay, little Kay!” asked Gerda. “When did 
he come? Was he in the crowd?” 

“Wait! Give me time! We 're right by him. It 
was on the third day when, without horse or carriage, a 
little person arrived who walked quite merrily right up 
to the castle; his eyes sparkled like yours; he had fine, 
long hair, but his clothes were shabby.” 

“That was Kay!” cried Gerda, rejoicing. “Oh, 
then I have fotmd him!” And she clapped her hands. 

“He had a little knapsack on his back,” observed 
the Crow. 

“No, that must certainly have been his sled,” said 
Gerda, “for he went away with a sled.” 

“That may well be,” said the Crow, “for I did not 
look at it very closely. But this much I know from my 
tame sweetheart, that when he entered at the palace gate 
and saw the guards in silver, and on the staircase the line 
of lackeys in gold, he was not in the least embarrassed. 
He nodded and said to them, ‘It must be very tedious 
to stand on the stairs; I'd rather go inside.' The halls 
blazed with lights; Privy Councilors and Excellencies 
walked about with bare feet, carrying golden trays; it was 
enough to make any one feel ceremonious. The stranger's 
boots creaked noisily, but still he was not embarrassed.” 


138 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


''That is certainly Kay!” cried Gerda. "He had 
new boots on; I’ve heard them creak in grandmother’s 
room.” 

"Yes, they certainly did creak,” resumed the Crow. 
"And he walked boldly, straight to the Princess herself, 
who was seated on a pearl as big as a spinning-wheel; 
and all the court ladies with their maids and their maids’ 
maids, and all the cavaliers with their servitors and 
followers, and their servants’ servants, who themselves 
had a page apiece, were standing roimd; and the nearer 
they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. The 
attendants’ attendants’ pages, who always went about 
in slippers, one hardly dared look at, so proudly did they 
stand in the doorway!” 

"That must have been terrible!” faltered little Gerda. 
"And yet Kay won the Princess?” 

"If I had not been a crow I should have married 
her myself, notwithstanding that I am engaged. They 
say he spoke as well as I speak when I use the crows’ 
language; I heard that from my tame sweetheart. He 
was merry and agreeable; he had not come to court 
her, only to hear the wisdom of the Princess. And he 
approved of her, and she of him.” 

"Yes, surely that was Kay!” said Gerda. "He was 
so clever; he could do mental arithmetic up to fractions. 
Oh! won’t you please lead me to the castle?” 

"That’s easily said,” replied the Crow. "But how 
are we to manage it? I’ll talk it over with my tame 
sweetheart; she can probably advise us; for this I 
must tell you — a little girl like yourself will never be 
admitted.” 

"Yes, indeed I shall,” said Gerda. "When Kay 


THE SNOW QUEEN 139 

hears that I’m there he’ll come out immediately and 
take me in.” 

“Wait for me yonder at the hedge,” said the Crow; 
and it wagged its head and flew away. 

It was late in the evening when the Crow came back. 

“Caw! caw!” it said. “I’m to greet you kindly 
from my sweetheart, and here ’s a little loaf of bread for 
you. She took it from the kitchen. There’s plenty of 
bread there, and you must be himgry. You can’t 
possibly get into the palace, for you are barefooted, and 
the guards in silver and lackeys in gold would not permit 
it. But don’t cry; you shall go. My sweetheart knows 
a little back staircase that leads up to the bedroom, and 
she knows where she can get the key.” 

They went through the garden into the great ave- 
nue of trees where the leaves were falling one after 
another. And when the lights went out in the palace 
one by one, the Crow led little Gerda to a back door 
which stood ajar. 

Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with fear and longing! It 
seemed as if she were about to do something wicked; and 
yet she only wanted to know if it were little Kay. Yes, 
it must be he. She fancied she saw his clear eyes and 
his long hair; she fancied she saw him smile as when they 
sat among the roses at home. He would certainly be 
glad to see her; to hear how far she had come for his 
sake, to know how unhappy they all had been at home 
when he did not come back. Oh, what a fear and what 
a joy it was! 

Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp 
was burning on a cupboard, and in the middle of the 
floor stood the Tame Crow, turning her head in every 


140 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


direction; she looked at Gerda, who courtesied as her 
grandmother had taught her to do. 

“My betrothed has spoken very favorably of you, 
my little lady,” said the Tame Crow. “Your vita^ as 
it may be called, is very touching. If you will take the 
lamp I will precede you. We will go straight ahead and 
then we shall meet nobody.” 

“I feel as if someone were coming right behind us,” 
said Gerda, and something went rushing past her. It 
seemed like shadows on the wall — horses with flying 
manes and slender legs, hunters, and ladies and gentle- 
men on horseback. 

“They are only dreams!” said the Tame Crow. 
“They come to carry the noble lords’ and ladies’ 
thoughts a-hunting. That ’s all the better, for you may 
then look more closely at them in their beds. But I 
hope when you come into favor and receive honors that 
you will show a grateful heart.” 

“That is nothing to talk about!” said the Crow from 
the wood. 

They now entered the first hall. It was htmg with 
rose-colored satin, and artificial flowers were worked on 
the walls. Here the dreams again came flitting by them, 
but they moved so quickly that Gerda could not see the 
highborn lords and ladies. Each hall they entered was 
more splendid than the last; yes, it was enough to over- 
awe one! Now they were in the bedchamber. Here the 
ceiling was like a great palm tree with leaves of glass, 
costly glass, and in the middle of the room hung two 
beds on a thick stalk of gold, each of them resembling 
a lily. One was white, and in that lay the Princess; the 
other was red, and in that Gerda was to seek little Kay. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 141 

She bent one of the red leaves aside, and then she saw 
a little brown neck. Oh, that was Kay! She called out 
his name quite loudly, and held the lamp toward him. 
The dreams rushed into the room again on horseback; he 
awoke, turned his head, and — it was not little Kay! 

It was only the Prince’s neck that was like Kay’s; 
but he was young and good looking. The Princess 
peeped out of the white lily-bed and asked who was there. 
Then little Gerda wept, and told her whole story, and 
all that the Crows had done for her. 

‘‘You poor child!” said the Prince and the Princess 
together. 

They praised the Crows and said that they were not 
at all angry with them, but that they should not do such 
a thing again. However, they were to be rewarded. 

‘‘Should you like to be free?” asked the Princess. 
‘‘ Or do you wish fixed positions as Court Crows, with the 
right to all the leavings in the kitchen?” 

And the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed posi- 
tions, for they thought of their old age, and said, ‘‘It is 
so good to have something for the old man, as they say.” 

And the Prince got out of his bed and let Gerda sleep 
in it. More than that he could not do. She folded her 
little hands, and thought, ‘‘How good men and animals 
are!” and then she closed her eyes and went quietly 
to sleep. All the dreams came flying in again, look- 
ing like angels, and they drew a little sled on which 
Kay sat nodding. But all this was only dreaming and 
therefore it ended as soon as she awoke. 

The next day she was clothed from head to foot in 
velvet, and was asked to stay in the castle and have a 
good time. But all she asked was a little carriage 


142 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


with a horse to draw it, and a pair of little boots; then 
she would ride away into the wide world and find Kay. 

They dressed her beautifully and gave her not only 
boots but a muff; and when she was ready to depart, a 
coach made of pure gold stood before the door. Upon 
it shone like a star the coat-of-arms of the Prince and 
Princess. Coachmen, footmen, and outriders — for there 
were outriders, too — sat on horseback, with gold crowns 
on their heads. The Prince and Princess themselves 
helped her into the carriage and wished her all good 
fortune. 

The forest Crow, who was now married, accompanied 
her the first three miles. He sat by Cerda’s side, for he 
could not bear to ride backward; the other Crow stood 
in the doorway and fiapped her wings. She did not go 
with them, because she suffered from headaches that 
had come on since she had obtained her fixed place at 
Court and too much to eat. The coach was lined 
inside with sugar biscuits, and under the seat were 
gingerbread and fruit. 

“Farewell, farewell!” cried the Prince and Princess; 
and little Cerda wept, and the Crow wept. Thus they 
traveled the first few miles; then the Crow, too, said 
good-by, and that was the hardest parting of all. The 
Crow flew up into a tree, and beat his black wings as 
long as he could see the coach, which gleamed like 
the stm. 

THE FIFTH STORY 
The Little Robber Girl 

They drove on through the thick forest; but the 
coach shone so like a torch that it dazzled the robbers’ 
eyes. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


143 


^^Gold! gold!’' they cried, and, rushing forward, seized 
the horses, killed the postilions, the coachman, and the 
footmen, and then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. 

“She is fat — she is pretty — she has been fattened 
on nut kernels!” said the old robber woman, who had 
a very long bristly beard, and eyebrows that hung down 
over her eyes. “She’s as good as a little spring lamb; 
how I shall relish her!” 

And out came her shining knife, glittering in a 
horrible way. 

“Ouch!” screamed the old woman at that moment; 
her own daughter, wild and unruly, had nipped her ear 
with her sharp little teeth. “You ugly brat!” she said; 
and she had not time to harm Gerda. 

“She shall play with me!” said the little robber girl. 
“She shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and 
sleep with me in my bed!” 

And then the girl gave another bite, so that the woman 
jumped and danced around. All the robbers laughed, 
and said: 

“Look how she dances with her cub!” 

“I want to ride in the carriage,” said the little robber 
girl. 

And she would have her way, for she was spoiled and 
very obstinate; and she and Gerda sat in the carriage, 
and drove over stumps and stones deep into the forest. 
The little robber girl was as big as Gerda, but stronger 
and broader shouldered, and she had brown skin. Her 
eyes were very black, and they looked almost mourn- 
ful. She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said: 

“They shall not kill you as long as I am not angry 
with you. I suppose you are a princess.” 


144 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“No,” replied Gerda. And then she told all that had 
happened to her, and how fond she was of little Kay. 

The robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded 
slightly, and said, “They shall not kill you, even if I do 
get angry with you, for then I will do it myself.” 

And then she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put her two 
hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft and warm. 

Now the coach stopped; they were standing in the 
middle of the courtyard of a robber castle. The castle 
wall was cracked from top to bottom; ravens and crows 
flew out of the great holes, and great mastiffs — each 
of which looked as though he could eat up a man — 
sprang high in the air; but they did not bark, for that 
was forbidden. 

In the huge, smoky, old hall a great Are bmned on 
the stone floor; the smoke rolled along tmder the ceiling 
and had to seek an exit for itself wherever it could. A 
great cauldron of soup was boiling, and hares and rabbits 
were roasting on the spit. 

“You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little 
animals,” said the robber girl. 

They got something to eat and drink, and then went 
to a corner where straw and carpets were spread out. 
Above, sitting on sticks and perches, were more than a 
hundred pigeons. They all seemed asleep, but turned a 
little when the two girls came near. 

“All these belong to me,” said the little robber girl; 
and suddenly she seized one of the nearest, held it by the 
feet, and shook it so that it flapped its wings. “Kiss 
it!” she cried, and beat it in Gerda’s face. “There sit 
the wood rascals,” she went on, pointing to a number of 
sticks that had been nailed in front of a hole in the wall. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


145 


“Those are wood rascals, those two; they fly away 
directly if one does not keep them well locked up. And 
here’s my old sweetheart ‘Baa.’ ” And she pulled out 
by the horn a reindeer that was tied and had a polished 
copper ring arotmd its neck. “We’re obliged to keep 
him tied up, too, or he’d run away from us. Every 
evening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife, of which 
he’s very much afraid.’’ 

And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft in 
the wall, and let it slide over the reindeer’s neck; the 
poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little robber 
girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with her. 

“Do you keep the knife while you’re asleep?’’ asked 
Gerda, and looked at it in a rather frightened way. 

“I always sleep with my knife,’’ replied the robber 
girl. “One does not know what may happen. But tell 
me now again what you told me before about little Kay, 
and why you came out into the wide world.’’ 

And Gerda told her story again from the beginning; 
and above them the wood pigeons cooed in their cage, 
and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl put 
her arm around Gerda’s neck, held her knife in the other 
hand, and slept so that one could hear her. But Gerda 
could not close her eyes at all* she did not know whether 
she was to live or die. 

The robbers sat round the Are, singing and thinking, 
and the old robber woman tumbled about. It was a 
terrible sight for a little girl. 

Then the Wood Pigeons said, “Coo! coo! We have 
seen little Kay. A white hen was carrying his sled, and 
Kay was seated in the Snow Queen’s carriage, which 
rushed by close over the treetops as we lay in our nests 
10 


146 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


in the wood. She blew upon us young pigeons and all 
died except us two. Coo! cool” 

”What are you saying up there?” asked Gerda. 
‘^Whither was the Snow Queen traveling? Do you 
know anything about it?” 

”She was probably journeying to Lapland, for there 
is always ice and snow. You might ask the reindeer, 
there, tied to that cord.” 

”Ice and snow are there, and there everything is 
gloriously beautiful,” said the Reindeer. “There one 
may nm about in freedom in the great glittering valleys. 
There the Snow Queen has her siunmer pavilion; but 
her great castle home is far up near the North Pole, on 
one of the Spitzbergen islands.” 

“Oh, Kay, little Kay!” cried Gerda. 

“You must lie still,” exclaimed the robber girl, “or I 
shall tickle you with my knife.” 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood 
Pigeons had said. The robber girl looked quite serious, 
nodded her head, and said, “No matter! No matter!” 

“Do you know where Lapland is?” she asked the 
Reindeer. 

“Who should know better than I?” the creature re- 
plied, its eyes sparkling brightly. “There I was bom and 
bred, and there I leaped and ran about in the snow fields.” 

“Listen!” said the robber girl to Gerda. “You see 
all our men have gone away. Only mother is here and 
she’ll stay; but toward noon she drinks out of the big 
bottle, and after that she takes a little nap; then I’ll do 
something for you.” 

Then she sprang out of bed, clasped her mother roimd 
the neck, and pulled her beard, crying: 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


147 


“Good morning, my own sweet old nanny-goat, 
good morning !“ And the mother filliped her daughter's 
nose till it was red and blue; but it was all done for 
pure love. 

Now when the mother had taken a drink out of her 
bottle and had fallen asleep, the robber girl went to the 
Reindeer and said, “I should like very much to tickle 
you many more times with my knife, for you are so 
amusing then; but it does n’t matter. I ’ll untie the rope 
that binds you and help you outside, so that you can 
run to Lapland; but you must use yoiur legs well, and 
carry this little girl to the palace of the Snow Queen, 
where her playmate is, for me. I know you heard what 
she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you are 
an eavesdropper.” 

The Reindeer leaped with joy. The robber girl 
lifted little Gerda up on its back and had the forethought 
to tie her fast, and even to give her a little pillow to 
sit on. 

“There are your fur boots,” she said, “for it’s growing 
cold; but I shall keep the muff, for that is so very pretty. 
Still, you shall not be cold, for here are my mother’s big 
mittens. They ’ll reach to your elbows. On with them. 
There now, you look just like my ugly old mother.” 

And Gerda wept for joy. 

“I can’t bear to see you whimper,” said the little 
robber girl. “You really ought to look pleased. Here 
you have two loaves and a ham to keep you from 
starving.” 

These were tied on the Reindeer’s back. The little 
robber girl now opened the door, coaxed in all the big 
dogs, and then cut the rope with her sharp knife. 


148 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘Now run,” she said to the Reindeer, “but take good 
care of the little girl.” 

And Gerda stretched out her hands in the big mittens 
toward the little robber girl and said good-by. 

Away sped the Reindeer over stumps and stones, 
away through the great forest, over marshes and steppes, 
as fast as it could go. The wolves howled and the ravens 
croaked. 

“Choo! choo!” sounded in the air. It seemed as if 
the sky were sneezing flashes of red fire. 

“Those are my old Northern Lights,” said the Rein- 
deer. “See how they gleam!” And then it ran on 
faster than ever, day and night. The loaves were eaten 
up, and so was the ham; and then they arrived in 
Lapland. 

THE SIXTH STORY 

The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman 

They stopped at a little hut. It was very humble; 
the roof sloped down to the ground, and the door was so 
low that the family had to creep on their stomachs when 
they wanted to go in or out. No one was at home but 
an old Lapland woman, who was frying fish over an oil 
lamp. The Reindeer told Gerda’s whole story, but 
first it related its own, for that seemed to the Reindeer 
by far the more important of the two. Gerda was so 
overcome by the cold that she could not talk. 

“ Oh, you poor things,” said the Lapland woman, “you 
still have a long way to run! You must journey more 
than a hundred miles to Finland, for there the Snow 
Queen resides in her coimtry home and burns blue lights 
every evening. I ’ll write a few words on a dried cod, for I 
have no paper, and I ’ll give it to you to take to the Finland 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


149 


woman; she can give you better information than I.” 

So when Gerda had been warmed, and refreshed with 
food and drink, the Lapland woman wrote a few words 
on a dried codfish, and, telling Gerda to take good care 
of it, tied her again on the Reindeer, and away they 
went. ^‘Choo! choo!” sounded above them in the air; 
and all night long the beautiful blue Northern Lights 
kept burning. 

And then they came to Finland, and knocked at the 
chimney of the Finland woman, for she had not even 
a door. 

There was such a heat within that the Finland woman 
herself went about almost naked. She was very small 
and dirty. She at once loosened little Gerda’s dress 
and took off the child's mittens and boots, for otherwise 
the heat would have been too great for her to bear. 
Then she laid a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, and 
read what was written on the codfish. When she had 
read it three times, she knew it by heart, and then she 
popped the fish into the kettle, for it was eatable, and 
she never wasted anything. 

Now the Reindeer told first his own story, and then 
little Gerda's; and the Finland woman blinked with her 
wise-looking eyes, but said nothing. 

‘‘You are very wise," said the Reindeer. “I know 
you can tie all the winds of the world together with a 
bit of thread; if the sailor unties one knot, he has a good 
wind; if he loosens the second, it blows hard; and if he 
unties the third and fourth, there comes such a tempest 
that the forests cannot stand against it. Won’t you give 
the little girl a potion, so that she may get twelve men’s 
strength and overcome the Snow Queen?" 


ISO 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Twelve men’s strength!” repeated the Finland 
woman. “Much good that would be!” 

And she went to a cupboard and brought out a great 
roll of skin, and spread it out. Wonderful characters 
were written upon it, and the Finland woman read imtil 
the perspiration dripped from her forehead. 

But the Reindeer again begged so hard for little 
Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with 
such beseeching, tear-filled eyes that she began to blink 
again. Then she drew the Reindeer into a comer, and 
whispered to it, while she laid fresh ice upon its head. 

“It is true that little Kay is as the Snow Queen’s, 
and finds everything there to his taste. He thinks it 
is the best place in the world; but that is because he has 
a splinter of glass in his heart, and a little fragment in 
his eye. These must first be removed or he will never 
be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will keep 
him in her power.” 

“But can’t you give something to little Gerda, to 
enable her to have power over it all?” 

“I can give her no greater power than she already 
possesses. Don’t you see how great that is? Don’t 
you see how men and animals are obliged to serve her, 
and how well she gets on in the world, barefooted? 
She must not be told of her power by us; that power is 
in her own heart and consists in this, that she is a dear, 
innocent child. If she herself cannot penetrate to the 
Snow Queen and remove the glass from little Kay’s 
heart, we can be of no use! Two miles from here the 
Snow Queen’s garden begins; thither you can carry the 
little girl. Set her down in the snow by the great bush 
with the red berries, and don’t stand gossiping, but 
make haste to come back here!” 


THE SNOW QUEEN 151 

Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on to the 
Reindeer, which ran as fast as it could. 

'‘Oh, I didn’t get my boots! I didn’t get my 
mittens!” cried Gerda. 

In the piercing cold she soon had noticed their 
absence; but the Reindeer did not dare stop; it ran till 
it came to the bush with the red berries; there it set 
Gerda down, kissed her on the mouth, great shining tears 
running down over its cheeks; then back again it ran as 
fast as it could go. Poor Gerda stood where the Rein- 
deer had left her, without shoes, without gloves, in the 
midst of terrible, icy Finland. 

She ran forward as fast as she could and then came a 
whole regiment of . snowflakes. But they did not fall 
from the sky, for the sky was quite clear and shone with 
the Northern Lights; the snowflakes ran right along the 
ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. 
Gerda remembered how large and wonderful the snow- 
flakes had appeared when she had looked at them through 
the magnifying glass. But here they were larger. More- 
over, they were terrible, for they were alive. They 
were the Snow Queen’s outposts, and they had the 
strangest shapes. Some looked like great ugly porcu- 
pines; others like tangled snakes, which stretched their 
heads toward her; and others, still, like little fat bears, 
whose hair stood on end. All were brilliantly white; 
all were living snowflakes. 

Then little Gerda said the Lord’s Prayer. The cold 
was so severe that as she spoke the words of the prayer 
she could see her own breath, which came out of her 
mouth like smoke. Her breath became thicker and 
thicker, and the cloud formed itself into little bright 


152 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


angels, which grew and grew when they touched the 
earth. And all had helmets on their heads and shields 
and spears in their hands; their number increased, 
until when Gerda had finished her prayer a whole legion 
stood about her. They struck with their spears at the 
terrible snowflakes, shattering them in a thousand pieces ; 
and little Gerda could then go ahead safely and happily. 
The angels patted her hands and feet, making her feel 
less cold, and she walked quickly forward toward the 
Snow Queen’s palace. 

But now we must see what Kay has been doing. 
He certainly was not thinking of little Gerda, and least 
of all that she was standing in front of the palace. 

THE SEVENTH STORY 

What Took Place in the Snow Queen’s Castle, and What 
Afterwards Happened There 

The walls of the palace were formed of the drifting 
snow, and the windows and doors of the piercing winds. 
There were more than a hundred halls, all blown together 
by the snow; the greatest of these extended many miles. 
The strong Northern Lights illumined them all, and how 
great and empty, how icily cold and shining they all 
were! Never was merriment there, not even a little 
bear’s ball, at which the storm could have played the 
music while the polar bears walked about on their hind 
legs and displayed their good manners; never any little 
games of ‘‘The biter bit” or “Last tag”; never any 
whispered gossip over the coffee cups by the young lady 
white foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of 
the Snow Queen. The Northern Lights flamed up with 
such regularity that one knew exactly when they would 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


153 


be at the highest and when at the lowest. In the midst 
of this immense empty snow hall was a frozen lake 
whose surface had cracked in a thousand pieces; but 
each piece was so like the rest that it formed a perfect 
pattern. In the middle of the lake, when she was at 
home, sat the Snow Queen, and she then said that she 
sat on the Mirror of Reason, and that this was the only 
one, and the best in the world. 

Little Kay was blue with cold — indeed, almost 
black! but he did not feel it, for, you know, the Snow 
Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings from him, 
and his heart was nothing but a lump of ice. He was 
engaged in dragging about a few sharp, flat pieces of ice, 
fitting them together in all possible ways, for he wanted 
to achieve something with them. It was just as when 
we play with little tablets of wood, and fit them together 
to form figures — what we call a Chinese puzzle. Kay 
also made figures, and, very artistic ones, indeed. They 
formed the icy puzzles of Reason. To him these figures 
were very remarkable and of the highest importance; 
that was because of the fragment of the evil glass mirror 
sticking in his eye. He planned out the figures to form 
words — but he could never manage to form the word he 
wished — the word '‘Eternity.” And the Snow Queen 
had said: 

“If you can find out this figure, you shall be your 
own master, and I will give you the whole world and a 
new pair of skates.” 

But he could not. 

“Now ril hasten away to the warm lands,” said 
the Snow Queen. “I want to go and take a look down 
into the black kettles,” These were the volcanoes, Etna 


154 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


and Vesuvius, as they are called. “I shall whiten them 
a little! That’s necessary, it is good for the grapes and 
olives in the valleys.” 

And away flew the Snow Queen, leaving Kay sitting 
quite alone in the vast icy hall, looking at his pieces of 
ice, and thinking so deeply that something cracked 
inside of him, and one would have thought to hear it 
that he was frozen. 

It was just then that little Gerda stepped through 
the great gate into the palace. Piercing winds blew, 
but she breathed an evening prayer, and the winds 
lay down as if lulled to sleep. 

She stepped into the great cold, empty halls. Then 
she saw Kay; she ran to him and threw her arms about 
him and held him tight, crying, ^'Kay, dear little Kay! 
At last I have found you!” 

But he sat very still, stiff, and cold. Then little 
Gerda wept hot tears, that fell upon his breast; they 
penetrated to his heart, thawed the lump of ice, and 
consumed the little piece of glass in it. He looked at 
her, and she sang the old song: 

Where roses blow in the flowery vale, 

There we the child Jesus shall hail. 

Then Kay burst into tears; he wept so that the 
splinter of glass came out of his eye. He recognized 
Gerda and cried joyously: 

'‘Gerda, dear little Gerda! Where have you been 
all this time? And where have I been?” He looked 
all about him. “How cold it is here! How large and 
empty!” 

He clung to Gerda and she laughed and wept for joy. 
Even the pieces of ice danced round with joy at their 


155 


THE SNOW QUEEN 

happiness; and when they were tired and stopped, they 
formed themselves into just the letters of the word 
Kay had been trying to form — the word for which the 
Snow Queen had promised to make Kay his own master 
and give him the whole world and a new pair of skates, 
besides. 

Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became rosy; she 
kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed 
his hands and feet and he became strong and well. 
The Snow Queen might now come; his letter of release 
stood written in shining characters of ice. 

They took each other by the hand, and wandered 
forth from the great palace. They talked about the 
grandmother and the roses on the roof; wherever they 
went the winds were stilled and the sun burst forth. 
And when they came to the bush with the red berries, 
the Reindeer stood waiting; it had brought another 
young Reindeer, which gave the children warm milk, 
and kissed them on the mouth. Then the two carried 
Kay and Gerda away, first to the Finland woman, where 
they warmed themselves thoroughly, and received in- 
structions for their journey, and then to the Lapland 
woman, who had made new clothes for them and had 
her sled ready to take them home. 

Both the Reindeer ran along beside them, accom- 
panying them as far as the boimdary of the country. 
There the first green leaves peeped forth, and there they 
said good-by to the two Reindeer and the Lapland 
woman. ‘‘Farewell!'’ they all said. 

Now the first little birds began to twitter, the forest 
was decked with green buds, and out of it, on a beautiful 
horse (which Gerda knew, for it was the same that had 


156 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


drawn her golden coach), came riding a young girl, 
with a shining red cap on her head and a pair of pistols 
in her holsters. This was the little robber girl, who 
had grown tired of staying at home, and wished to go, 
first, to the north, and if that did not suit her, to some 
other region. She knew Gerda at once, and Gerda knew 
her, too, and it was a joyful meeting. 

‘‘You are a fine fellow to gad about!” she said to 
little Kay. “I should like to know if you deserve to 
have anyone running to the end of the world for your 
sake!” 

But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the 
Prince and Princess. 

“They’ve gone to foreign countries,” said the robber 
girl. 

“But the Crow?” asked Gerda. 

“The Crow is dead,” she answered. “The tame 
sweetheart is now a widow, and goes about with a piece 
of black woolen thread aroimd her leg. She complains 
most lamentably, but it’s all nonsense. And now tell 
me how you have fared, and how you got hold of him.” 

And Gerda and Kay told their story. 

“Snipp-snapp-snurre-purre-basellurre!” cried the rob- 
ber girl. She took them both by the hand, and promised 
that if she ever came through their town, she would 
pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide 
world. But Gerda and Kay walked hand in hand, and 
wherever they went it was beautiful spring with foliage 
and flowers. The church bells rang, and they recognized 
the high steeples in the great city where they lived. They 
entered the city and went to the door of the grand- 
mother’s house, up the stairs, and into her room, where 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


157 


everything stood in its usual place. The big clock said 
'‘Tick! tack!’' and the hands were turning; but as Kay 
and Gerda entered the room they noticed that they 
had become grown-up people. The roses out on the 
roof-gutter were nodding in at the open window, and 
there stood the children’s chairs. Kay and Gerda sat 
down on their little chairs, and held each other by the 
hand. The cold, empty splendor at the Snow Queen’s 
had passed from their memory like a bad dream. Grand- 
mother was sitting in God’s bright sunshine, and reading 
aloud out of the Bible, "Except ye become as little 
children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” 

Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s eyes, and 
all at once they understood the old song: 

Where roses blow in the flowery vale, 

There we the child Jesus shall hail. 

There they sat, both grown up and yet children — 
children in heart; and it was summer — warm, delightful 
simimer. 


THE FLYING TRUNK 


There was once a merchant who was so rich that 
he could pave the whole avenue with silver coins, and 
then have almost enough left for a little side street. 
But he did not do that. He knew how to use his money 
differently. When he spent a penny he got back a 
dollar; that was the kind of merchant he was. 

The merchant died and his son got all his money; 
and right merrily did he live. He went to. mask balls 
every night, made paper kites out of dollar bills, and 
played at ducks and drakes on the beach with gold 
pieces instead of pebbles. In this way the money was 
quickly spent. At last there was nothing left but four 
pennies, and no clothes to wear but a pair of slippers 
and an old dressing gown. The friends of the spend- 
thrift did not care about him any more. Of course they 
could not be expected to walk on the street with him 
now. One of them, however, who was good-natured, 
sent him an old trunk, and told him to ''Pack up!” 
That was all very well, of coiurse, but there was nothing 
to pack up; and so he seated himself in the trunk. 

It was a most peculiar trunk. So soon as any one 
pressed on the lock, the trunk could fly. That is what 
it did now and — whisk! — away it flew with him up 
through the chimney and high over the clouds, far, far 
away. The bottom of the trunk snapped as if about to 
break, and he was in great fear lest it go to pieces, for 
then he would have turned a fine somersault in the air! 
Goodness me! 

But the trunk did not break and he arrived in the 
is8 


THE FLYING TRUNK 


159 


land of the Turks. He hid the trunk in the woods under 
the withered leaves, and went into the town. He could 
do that without any trouble, for among the Turks all 
the people went about dressed, like himself, in dressing- 
gown and slippers. He met a nurse with a little child. 

^^Here, Turk nurse,'* he said, ''what great castle is 
that close by the town, in which the windows are placed 
so high up?" 

"That is where the Sultan's daughter lives," she 
replied. "A fortime-teller foretold that she would be very 
unhappy over a lover; and for that reason nobody may 
visit her, unless the Sultan and Sultana are there too." 

"Thank you!" said the merchant's son. Then he 
went out into the woods, seated himself in his trunk, 
and flew up on the roof of the castle. Then he crept 
through the window into the room of the Princess. 

She was lying asleep on the sofa and she was so 
beautiful that the merchant's son had to kiss her. She 
awoke at once and was very much frightened. But 
when the stranger told her that he was a Turkish deity 
who had come down to her through the air, she was very 
much pleased. 

They sat down side by side, and he told her stories 
about her eyes. He told her they were beautiful, dusky 
lakes, and that her thoughts were swimming there like 
mermaids. And he talked to her about her forehead. 
It was a snowy moimtain, he said, with the most splendid 
halls full of pictures. He told her about the stork that 
brings the dear little children. 

Yes, those were fine stories! Then he asked the 
Princess if she would marry him, and she said "Yes" 
immediately. 


i6o .ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

^'But you must come here on Saturday,” said she. 
“On that day the Sultan and the Sultana come to take 
tea with me. They will be very proud that I am to 
marry a Turkish deity. But be sure to come with a 
very pretty fairy tale, for both my parents are very fond, 
indeed, of stories. My mother likes them high-flown 
and with a moral, and my father likes funny stories 
that make him laugh.” 

‘ ^ Very well, ’ ’ said he. “I shall bring no other wedding 
present than a story.” Thus they parted. The Prin- 
cess gave him a scimitar embossed with gold pieces, 
and things like that were particularly useful to him. 

He flew away in his tnmk and bought himself a new 
dressing gown. After that he went into the forest and 
sat down to make up a story. That was not such an 
easy matter, for, you remember, it was to be ready by 
Saturday. 

By the time he had finished it, Satiuday had come. 

When he arrived at the apartment of the Princess, 
the Sultan and his wife and all the Court were there 
drinking tea and waiting for him. He was received 
very graciously. 

“Will you tell us a story?” said the Sultana. “One 
that is deep and instructive.” 

“Yes, but still one that we can laugh at,” said the 
Sultan. 

“Certainly,” he replied; and began. And now listen 
very closely. 

“There was once a bundle of Matches. They were 
extremely proud of their high descent. Their genea- 
logical tree, that is to say, the great fir tree of which 
each of them was a little splinter, had been a great old 


THE FLYING TRUNK 


i6i 


tree in the forest. The Matches lay on the shelf between 
a Tinder Box and an old Iron Pot to whom they were 
talking about the days of their youth. ‘Yes, when we 
were in the green bough,’ they said, ‘we really were in 
very pleasant circumstances. Every morning and eve- 
ning we had diamond tea — that was the dew. All day 
we had sunshine — when the sun shone; and all the 
little birds told us stories. We could plainly perceive 
that we were rich, too, for the other trees were clothed 
only in summer, while our family could afford green 
dresses both summer and winter. But then the wood- 
cutter came, a great revolution took place, and our family 
was split in pieces. The head of the family got an 
appointment as mainmast on a magnificent ship, which 
could sail round the world if it wanted to. The branches 
went to various places, and now here we are kindling a 
light for the vulgar masses. That’s how we grand 
people came to be in the kitchen.’ 

“‘My fate was of a different kind,’ said the Iron 
Pot, which stood next the Matches. ‘Ever since the 
moment I came into the world I have been scoured and 
boiled continually. I attend to the practical side and 
am really of the first importance here in this house. My 
only pleasure is to sit on the shelf after dinner, very clean 
and neat, and carry on a sensible conversation with my 
comrades. But, except the Water Pail which sometimes 
is taken down into the courtyard, we all live within 
doors. Our only newsbearer is the Market Basket; 
but he speaks in a very disquieting way about the govern- 
ment and the people. Why, the other day an old pot 
fell down from fright and broke into pieces just listening 
to his talk. He’s a liberal, let me tell you!’ 


11 


I 


162 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

“'Now you’re talking too much,’ the Tinder Box 
interrupted, and the steel struck against the flint so 
that the sparks flew. 'Can we not have a pleasant 
evening for once?’ 

'' 'Yes, let us discuss which one of us is the most 
distinguished,’ said the Matches. 

'' 'No, I don’t like to talk about myself,” said the 
Earthen Pot. ' Let us get up an evening entertainment. 
I will start it. I will relate something that everyone 
has experienced; then we can easily imagine the situation 
and take pleasure in it. On the shore of the Baltic near 
the Danish beach, forests — ’ 

'' 'That’s a fine beginning,’ cried each of the Plates. 
'That will surely be a story I shall like.’ 

'' 'Yes, there I spent my youth with a quiet family, 
where the furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and 
clean curtains put up every fortnight.’ 

'''What an interesting way you have of telling a 
story!’ said the Feather Duster. 'One always knows 
what to expect when a woman tells a story. Something 
clean is sure to run through it.’ 

'' 'Yes, one feels it!’ said the Water Pail, and giving a 
little gleeful jump it came down with a smack on the floor. 

''The Pot went on with her story, and the end was 
as good as the beginning. 

''All the Plates rattled with pleasure and the Feather 
Duster brought some parsley out of the waste can and 
put it like a wreath on the Pot, for it knew that that 
would vex the others. 'Besides,’ it thought, 'if I crown 
her to-day, she will crown me to-morrow.’ 

‘"Now I’m going to dance,’ said the Fire Tongs, 
and it hopped about. Dear me! how that implement 


THE FLYING TRUNK 


163 


could lift its legs in the air! The old Chair Cushion 
over in the comer burst with looking at it. ^ May I be 
crowned, too?' said the Tongs; and it, too, received a 
wreath. 

“ ‘They're only common people, after all!' thought 
the Matches. 

“Now the Tea-Um was to sing; but she said she had 
taken cold, and could not sing imless she was boiling. 
But that was only affectation. She did not want to 
sing except when she was on the table in the parlor with 
the grand people. 

“In the window sat an old Quill Pen with which the 
maid generally wrote; there was nothing remarkable 
about this pen except that it had been dipped too deep 
into the ink. But it was proud of that very thing. ‘ If 
the Tea-Um won’t sing,' it said, ‘she doesn't have to. 
Outside hangs a nightingale in a cage, and he can sing. 
He hasn’t had any education, but this evening we'll 
say nothing about that.' 

“‘I think it entirely out of place,' said the Tea- 
Kettle, who was the kitchen singer, and half-sister to 
the Tea-Um, ‘that we should listen to such a foreign 
bird. Do you call that patriotic? Let the Market 
Basket decide!' 

“‘I am vexed,' said the Market Basket. ‘No one 
can imagine how terribly vexed I am. Is this a proper 
way to spend the evening? Would it not be more fitting 
to put the house in order, each one to take his proper 
place? I would arrange the whole affair. That would 
be the thing.' 

“‘Yes, let us make a disturbance,' they all cried. 
Just then the door opened and the maid came in. Then 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


164 

they all stood still and no one made a sound. But there 
was not one pot among them that did not know how 
much it could do, and how distinguished it was. ‘Yes, 
if I had liked,’ each one thought, ‘it might have been a 
very merry evening.’ 

“The servant girl took the Matches and struck fire 
with them. Mercy! how they sputtered and burst 
into flame! ‘Now everyone can certainly see,’ thought 
they, ‘that we are first in importance. How we shine! 
what a light!’ And then they burned out.’’ 

“That was a capital story,’’ said the Sultana. “I 
feel myself quite carried away to the kitchen and to the 
Matches. Yes, now you shall have our daughter.’’ 

“Yes, indeed,’’ said the Sultan, “you shall marry our 
daughter on Monday.’’ 

And they treated him as one of the family. 

The day of the wedding was fixed and on the evening 
before, the whole city was illuminated. Biscuits and 
doughnuts were thrown into the crowds for the people 
to scramble for; the street boys stood on their toes and 
shouted “Hurrah!’’ They whistled on their fingers. 
It was all very splendid. 

“I shall have to do something, too!’’ thought the 
merchant’s son. So he bought rockets and fire-crackers 
and every kind of fireworks you could imagine, put them 
all into his trunk, and flew up into the air. 

Whizz! how they sputtered and flared, and how they 
popped! All the Turks hopped in the air and their 
slippers flew about their ears ; such a sight they had never 
witnessed before. Now they could see for themselves 
that it was a real Ttirkish deity who was to marry the 
Princess, 


THE FLYING TRUNK 


165 

As soon as the merchant's son landed in the woods 
again with his trunk he decided to go into the city to 
hear what an impression he had made. It was quite 
natural that he should want to do this. 

But what stories people do tell! Everyone whom 
he asked about it had seen it in a different way; but 
one and all thought it fine. 

'‘I saw the Turkish deity himself," said one. "He 
had eyes like glowing stars, and a beard like foaming 
water." 

"He flew in a fiery mantle," said another. "The 
loveliest little cherubs peeped forth from among the 
folds." 

They were certainly pleasant things that he heard. 

On the following day he was to be married. 

He went back to the forest to seat himself in his 
trunk. But what had become of it? A spark from 
the fireworks had set fire to it, and the trunk had burned 
to ashes. He could not fly any more, and could not 
go to his bride. 

She stood all day on the roof waiting — and she is 
waiting there still, while he wanders through the world 
telling fairy tales. But the stories are no longer merry, 
like the one he told about the Matches. 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


Poor John was heartbroken, for his father was very 
ill and could not live. Besides these two there was no 
one in the little room where the father lay. The lamp 
on the table was almost burned out, and it was very 
late. 

*'You have been a good son, John,'^ said the sick 
man. ‘'I am sure the good Lord will help you on in the 
world!’' Then he gazed at him with calm, gentle eyes, 
drew a deep breath, and died. It seemed as if he had 
fallen asleep; but John wept, for now he had no one in 
the whole world, neither father nor mother, sister nor 
brother. Poor John! He knelt by the bedside, kissed 
his dead father’s hand, and wept long and bitterly. But 
at last his eyes closed and he slept, his head against the 
hard bedpost. 

Then he dreamed a strange dream. He saw the sim 
and moon bow before him, and he saw his father strong 
and well again. He heard him laugh as he always used 
to laugh when he was very much pleased. A lovely 
girl with a golden crown on her long, beautiful hair 
held out her hand to John, and his father said, '‘See the 
bride you have won! She is the most beautiful in the 
whole wide world.” Then John woke up. All the 
beauty was gone. His father lay dead and cold on the 
bed. Not a person was there with them. Poor John! 

The following week the dead man was buried. John 
walked close behind the coffin. No more was he to see 
his good, kind father, who had loved him so much. He 
heard the earth fall on the coffin. Now he could see 


i66 


TllE FELLOW TRAVELER 


167 

only a small corner of it, and with the next shovelful of 
earth that too was covered. Then it seemed to John as 
if his heart would burst with sorrow. Those standing 
around the grave sang a psalm, and it sounded so beauti- 
ful that tears filled John’s eyes. He wept, and his tears 
eased his sorrow. The sun shone brightly on the green 
trees as if to say: ‘‘Do not be so sad, John! Can you 
not see how beautifully blue the sky is? Your father is 
up yonder, praying to God that you may always prosper! ” 

“I will always be good,” said John; ‘‘for then I shall 
go to heaven to my father. What happiness it will be 
to see one another again! How much there will be to 
tell him! And he will show me so many things, and 
teach me so much of the joy and beauty of heaven, just 
as he used to teach me here on earth. Oh, what happiness 
it will be!” 

John saw it all so clearly in his thoughts that he smiled, 
though the tears still ran down his cheeks. The little 
birds up in the chestnut trees twittered and sang; they 
were very happy, although they were at a funeral. But 
they knew that the dead man was now in heaven, and 
had wings far larger and more beautiful than their own; 
they knew that he was happy there because he had been 
good while on earth, and that is why they were glad. 
John watched them fly away from the green trees far 
out into the world, and then he too felt a longing to fly 
far away. But first he made a large wooden cross to 
put on his father’s grave. When he brought it there in 
the evening he found the grave decorated with sand and 
flowers. Strangers had done this, for they had all been 
very fond of the dear, kind father who now was dead. 

Early next morning John packed his little bundle and 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


1 68 

put his whole inheritance into his belt for safe keeping. 
There were fifty dollars and a few silver coins, and v/ith 
these he was about to set out into the world. But first 
he went to the churchyard to his father’s grave, and there 
he said the Lord’s Prayer. 

'‘Farewell, dear father!” he said at last. ‘‘I will 
always be good, and then you may safely pray to God 
for my welfare!” 

Out in the field through which John walked the 
fiowers bloomed fresh and beautiful in the warm sunshine. 
They nodded in the wind as if to say, “Welcome to the 
fields and meadows! Is it not delightful here?” But . 
John turned round once more to look at the old church 
where he as a child had been christened and where he 
had gone every Sunday with his old father and had sung 
his psalms. Then, far up in one of the openings in the 
church tower, he saw the little church-tower elf, standing, 
with his little red pointed cap on his head, shading his 
face with his arm to keep the glare of the sim from 
his eyes, 

John nodded good-by to him, and the little elf swung 
his red cap, laid his hand on his heart, and kissed his 
fingers many times to show that he wished him happiness 
and a pleasant journey. 

John thought of the many beautiful things he would 
see in the great splendid world, and walked on and on, 
farther than he had ever gone before. He did not know 
the towns through which he passed, or the people whom 
he met. He was far away, among strangers. 

The first night he had to lie down to sleep in a hay- 
stack out in the field, for he had no other bed. But 
it was a very lovely bed, he thought; a king could not 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 169 

have had a nicer. The whole field, the river, the hay- 
stack, and over all the blue sky, really made a beautiful 
bedroom. The green grass sprinkled with small red and 
white flowers was the carpet, and the elders and the wild- 
rose bushes were bouquets of flowers. John had the 
whole river to bathe in, with its clear fresh water, where 
the reeds nodded, bidding him both good evening and 
good morning. The moon was a great night lamp, 
hanging high aloft under the blue ceiling; and there was 
no danger of its setting Are to the curtains. John could 
sleep quite peacefully, and so he did. He did not awaken 
until the sun rose. Then all the little birds sang, '‘Good 
morning! Good morning! Are you not up yet?” 

It was Sunday, and the bells rang for church. People 
were on their way to listen to the parson's sermon, and 
John went with them. He sang a psalm and heard a 
prayer, and felt as if he were in his own church, 
where he had been christened and had stmg psalms with 
his father. 

In the churchyard were many graves, and some of 
them were overgrown with high grasses. Then as John 
thought of his father’s grave, which might get to look 
like these now that he was not there to weed it and keep 
it in order, he set to work pulling up the grasses and raising 
the wooden crosses that had fallen. The wreaths, which 
the wind had blown away, he laid back in place on the 
graves, while he thought, “Perhaps some one will do the 
same for my father’s grave now that I cannot do it!” 

Outside the gate of the churchyard stood an old 
beggar, leaning on a crutch. John gave him the few 
silver coins he had, and then walked on, happy and 
contented, into the wide world. 


170 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


Toward evening a bad storm came up, and John 
hurried on to find shelter; but darkness soon fell. Then 
at last he reached a little church standing all alone on 
top of a hill. Luckily, the door was ajar, and John 
slipped inside. There he would stay till the storm was 
over. 

will sit here somewhere in a comer,” he said. ”I 
am very tired and need a little rest.” He sat down, 
folded his hands, and said his evening prayer, and before 
he knew it he was fast asleep and dreaming, while the 
lightning flashed and the thunder rolled outside. 

When he awoke it was the middle of the night, but 
the storm had passed and the moon was shining in 
through the windows. In the center of the floor stood 
an open coffin in which a dead man lay, waiting for burial. 
John was not the least bit afraid, for he had a good con- 
science, and he knew that the dead harm no one; it is the 
living, evil people who are to be feared. And two such 
wicked persons whose purpose was to harm the dead 
man were standing close beside the coffin. They would 
not let him lie in peace in his coffin, but intended to throw 
him outside the church door. The poor, dead man! 

” Why do you want to do that?” asked John. ”It is 
bad and wicked. In Heaven’s name, let him rest!” 

”0h, nonsense!” said the two evil men. ”He has 
cheated us! He owes us money! He could not pay, and 
now he is dead in the bargain. We shall never get a 
penny back, so we want revenge. He shall lie like a 
dog -outside the church door!” 

have only fifty dollars,” said John. ”That is my 
whole inheritance, but I will gladly give it to you if you 
will promise me faithfully to leave this poor dead man 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


171 

in peace. I can manage very well without the money. I 
am strong and healthy, and our Lord will always help me.'' 

^Wery well," said the evil men, *‘if you will pay his 
debts like that we certainly will not do him any harm, 
you may be sure!" Then they took the money that 
John gave them, laughing loudly at his good nature, and 
went away. But John laid the body straight again, 
folded its hands, said good-by, and then went on through 
the great forest, qtiite content. 

Round about him, wherever the moon could shine 
through between the trees, he saw the pretty little elves 
playing merrily. They were not disturbed in their play, 
for they knew that John was a good, innocent person, 
and it is only the wicked people who are never allowed to 
see the elves. Some of them were no taller than a finger. 
Their long yellow hair was fastened with golden combs, 
and two by two they rocked on the great dewdrops that 
lay on the -leaves and on the tall grass. Sometimes the 
dewdrop rolled away, and then the elves fell down be- 
tween the grass blades; then there was much laughter 
and merriment among the other little folk. It was great 
fim! They sang, and John recognized distinctly all the 
pretty songs he had learned when a little boy. Great 
colored spiders wearing silver crowns on their heads 
spun long suspension bridges from bush to bush, and made 
palaces which looked like shining glass when the dew lay 
on them in the bright moonlight. Thus the time passed 
merrily until the sun rose. Then the little elves crept 
into the flower buds, and the wind seized their bridges 
and palaces, which floated away in the air as great 
cobwebs. 

John was emerging from the forest when a loud voice 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


172 

called behind him, Hello, comrade! Whither away?” 

”Out into the wide world, ’’said John. ”I have 
neither father nor mother. I am a poor lad, but I know 
the Lord will help me!” 

”I am going out into the wide world, too,” said the 
stranger. ” Shall we keep each other company?” 

”By all means!” said John. 

So they walked on together. They soon grew to 
like each other very much, for they were both good men. 
But John soon perceived that the stranger was much 
wiser than he, for he had traveled in almost every 
part of the world and could talk intelligently about 
anything, no matter what it might be. 

The sun was already high when they sat down to- 
gether tmder a large tree to eat their breakfast. Just 
then an old woman came up, leaning on a crutch. On 
her back she carried a bundle of sticks that she had 
gathered in the forest. Her apron was fastened up, and 
John could see the ends of three large bundles of fern 
and willow switches that she carried in it. When she 
was close to John and his companion her foot slipped and 
she fell with a loud shriek; for the poor old woman had 
broken her leg. 

John would have carried her to her home at once, but 
the stranger opened his knapsack and took out a jar, 
saying that it contained an ointment which would make 
her leg well and strong immediately, so that she would 
be able to walk home by herself and as firmly and well 
as if she had never broken her leg. But in return he 
wanted her to give him the three bundles of switches 
she had in her apron. 

”That would be paying well!” said the old woman, 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


173 


nodding her head strangely. She did not like to part 
with her switches, but neither was it pleasant to lie 
there with a broken leg. So she gave him the switches, 
and as soon as he had rubbed on the ointment the old 
woman got up and walked much better than she had 
been able to walk before. And it was all the work of 
that ointment. Such ointment was not to be had at 
any druggist’s! 

'‘What do you want those switches for?” asked John. 

‘‘They will make fine brooms,” said the stranger; 
‘‘and they are just what I like, for I am such a queer 
sort of fellow!” 

Then they walked on a considerable distance. 

‘‘Just look at the storm coming up!” said John, 
pointing straight ahead. ‘‘Those are terribly heavy 
clouds!” 

‘‘Oh, no,” said the Fellow Traveler, ‘‘those are not 
clouds. They are mountains, the great beautiful moun- 
tains, where you can climb high up above the clouds 
into the fresh air! It is certainly glorious to be up 
there! To-morrow we shall have gone that far on our 
way into the wide world!” 

But they were not so near as they had seemed to be. 
The companions traveled for a whole day before they 
reached the mountains, where the dark forests grew right 
up to the sky and where were great bowlders as large as 
cities. It was going to be a very difficult matter to reach 
the other side, so John and his companion went into an 
inn to rest and gather strength for the journey next day. 

Many people were gathered in the large taproom at 
the inn, for there was a man with a puppet show. He 
had just set up his little theater, and the people were 


174 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


seated before it to see the play. Farthest up toward 
the stage, in the best seat, sat a fat old butcher. His 
bulldog sat by his side and, ugh! how ferocious that dog 
was! It sat staring just as hard as all the others did. 

Now the play began. It was really a pretty play, 
with a king and a queen in it sitting on the most beautiful 
of thrones and wearing golden crowns and long trains, — 
for they could well afford it. The prettiest of wooden 
dolls, with glass eyes and long goatees, stood at the doors, 
opening and closing them to let fresh air into the room. 
It was really a very pretty play, and not at all tragic. 
But just as the queen arose and walked across the floor, 
then — Heaven knows what the bulldog thought, but 
as the butcher was not holding him he made one leap 
right into the theater, seized the queen about the waist, 
and snap ! the doll’s head broke off ! It was quite terrible ! 

The poor man who conducted the play was frightened, 
and very downhearted because of his queen, for she was 
the very prettiest of his dolls; and now the wicked bulldog 
had broken her head off. 

But when the people had gone away, John’s Fellow 
Traveler said that he could mend her. He brought out 
his jar, and rubbed the doll with some of the same oint- 
ment that had cured the old woman when she had broken 
her leg. As soon as the doll had been rubbed with the 
ointment it immediately became whole again; nay, more, 
it could even move all its limbs by itself, and it was not 
at all necessary to pull the strings. The doll was like 
a living person except that it could not talk. The owner 
of the puppet show was delighted. Now it was not at 
all necessary to hold this doll, for it could dance by itself. 
None of the others could do that. 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


175 


Later on, after nightfall, when all the people at the 
inn had gone to bed, some one sighed very deeply indeed, 
and kept it up so long that everybody got up to see who 
it could be. The showman went over to his little theater, 
for that was where the sound came from. All the wooden 
dolls, the king and all his knights, lay in a heap. They 
were sighing mournfully, and staring out of their big 
glass eyes. They too wanted to be rubbed with ointment 
like the queen, for then they also would be able to move 
by themselves. The queen fell on her knees and held 
up her beautiful crown, saying, “Take my crown, if you 
will, but please rub some ointment on my royal husband 
and my courtiers !“ 

At that the poor man who owned the theater and the 
dolls could not keep from crying, for he really felt very 
sorry for them. He promised the Fellow Traveler that 
he would give him all the money he should get for the 
next evening's entertainment if he would rub the oint- 
ment on four or five of his nicest dolls. But the stranger 
said he wanted nothing but the big sword that the show- 
man wore at his side. As soon as it was given to him, 
he rubbed six of the dolls. They immediately began to 
dance, and that so prettily that all the girls, the real live 
girls who saw them, began to dance too. 

The coachman danced with the cook, the waiter 
with the chambermaid, all the guests with each other, 
and the fire shovel with the fire tongs. But these last 
two fell over just as they took the first step. That was 
a merry night, indeed! 

Next morning John and his Fellow Traveler left them 
all, and climbed up the lofty mountains through the 
great pine forests. They got up so high that the church 


176 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


towers far below them looked like little red berries down 
among the green. They could see far, far away for 
many, many miles, to places they had never been. So 
much of the beauty of the great glorious world John 
had never before seen at one time. The sun shone 
warm and bright in the clear blue sky. Far away among 
the mountains he heard the hunter's horn, and so beauti- 
ful did it sound that tears of joy filled his eyes. He 
could not help exclaiming: '‘Lord God, I worship 
Thee for Thy great goodness toward us, and for all the 
wonderful beauty in the world that Thou hast given us!" 

The Fellow Traveler also folded his hands and looked 
out over the forests and cities in the warm sunlight. 
At that moment they heard a wonderfully sweet sound 
over their heads, and looking up they saw a great white 
swan hovering in the air. It was very beautifiil, and it 
sang as they had never heard any bird sing before. But 
the song grew fainter and fainter, and the swan sank 
very slowly to the ground at their feet; and there the 
beautiful bird lay dead. 

"Two such beautiful wings," said the Fellow Trav- 
eler, "as this bird has are very valuable. I will take 
them with me! Do you see now what a good thing it 
was that I got the sword?" 

Then with one blow he struck off both the wings of 
the dead swan, for he meant to keep them. 

They traveled many, many miles over the moimtains 
until at last they arrived before a great city with over 
a hundred towers, which glittered like silver in the sun- 
light. In the center of the city was a splendid marble 
castle, thatched with red gold, and there lived the king. 

John and his Fellow Traveler did not want to enter 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


177 


the town at once. They stayed at an inn outside the 
walls to dress in their best, for they wished to make a 
good appearance when they walked through the streets. 
The innkeeper told them that the king was such a good 
man he never harmed any one. But his daughter — 
Heaven preserve us ! — was a wicked princess. Of beauty 
she had enough to be sure; no one could be so beautiful 
and lovely as she was. But what was the good of that, 
when she was so evil a witch, and so many fine princes 
had lost their lives because of her? She had given 
anybody permission to court her. Anyone could come, 
were he prince or beggar; that was all the same. He 
only had to guess three things that she asked him. If 
he could do that correctly she would marry him and 
he should be king over all the land when her father died. 
But if he could not guess the three things she asked, she 
either had him hanged or had his head cut off. Just so 
bad and wicked was this beautiful princess! Her father, 
the old king, was much grieved by all this wickedness, 
but he could not prevent it, for he had once said that 
he would never have anything to do with the princess' 
suitors; she could do as she liked. Every prince who 
had come to guess the riddles in order to win the princess 
had failed, and had either been hanged or had his 
head cut off. But each had been warned in time, and 
he could have kept himself and his courting away. The 
old king was so heartbroken by all the sorrow and misery 
that he and all his soldiers prayed on their knees, for a 
whole day every year, that the princess might become good. 
But that she positively would not do. The old women, who 
drank brandy, dyed it black before they drank it. That 
was their way of mourning, and more they could not do. 
12 


178 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


**That wicked princess!” exclaimed John. ”She 
certainly ought to be whipped; that would be the best 
thing for her. If only I were the old king, I would soon 
cure her!” 

Just then they heard the people outside cheering. 
The princess was passing by, and she was really so beauti- 
ful that all the people forgot how wicked she was, and 
began to shout and cheer. Twelve beautiful maidens, 
all clothed in white silk with golden tulips in their hands, 
rode on coal-black horses behind her. The princess 
herself rode a snow-white horse, decorated with diamonds 
and rubies, and her riding habit was of pure gold. The 
whip which she carried in her hand looked like a beam of 
simlight, and the gold crown on her head glittered like 
the stars of heaven. Her cloak was embroidered with 
thousands of beautiful butterfly wings. And yet she 
herself was far more beautiful than all her clothes. 

When John beheld her his face grew red as fire, and 
he could hardly utter a single word, for this princess 
looked exactly like the lovely girl with the golden crown 
that he had dreamed about the night his father died. 
He thought her so beautiful that he could not help loving 
her very much. It could not be true, he said, that she 
was such an evil witch, who had people hung or beheaded 
when they could not guess the riddles she put to them. 

” Anybody has permission to court her, even the 
poorest yokel. I will go to the castle myself, for I cannot 
do otherwise ! I must go ! ” 

They all begged him not to go, for, they said, he would 
only meet the same fate as all the others. His Fellow 
Traveler also advised him against it, but John was sure 
that he would get along all right. So he brushed his 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


179 


clothes and his shoes, washed his face and hands, combed 
his beautiful yellow hair, and then went quite alone 
into the city and up to the castle. 

'‘Come in,” said the old king when John knocked at 
the door. John opened it, and the old king, in his dress- 
ing gown and embroidered slippers, came to meet him. 
His golden crown was on his head, his scepter in one 
hand and his golden ball in the other. 

“Wait a moment!” he said, tucking the golden ball 
under his arm so as to be able to shake hands with John. 
But when he heard that John was a suitor he began to 
cry so bitterly that both the ball and the scepter fell to 
the floor, and he had to dry his eyes with the sleeve of 
his dressing gown. Poor old king! 

“Don't do it!” he said. “You will fail, like all the 
others. Just look at this!” He took John out into the 
princess' garden. It was a terrible sight, indeed! In 
every tree hung three or four princes, who had courted 
the princess but had not been able to guess the things 
she asked them. At every breeze the bones rattled so 
that the little birds had been frightened away and never 
dared come into the garden. All the flowers were staked 
up with human bones, and in the flower pots were grinning 
skulls. That was indeed a nice garden for a princess to 
have! 

“Here you see!” said the old king. “Your fate will 
be just like that of all the others you see here. So please 
give up your intention ! You will make me very imhappy 
if you do not, for I take it so much to heart!” 

John kissed the good old king's hand, and said he 
thought he would succeed, for he loved the beautiful 
princess very much. 


1 80 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

At that moment the princess herself came riding into 
the castle garden with all her ladies. John and the king 
went up to her and bade her good morning. She acted 
very pleasantly and shook hands with John, who loved 
her more than ever. He felt sure she could not possibly 
be the wicked witch everybody said she was. 

They entered the castle hall, where little girls served 
jam and gingerbread cookies. But the old king was 
so unhappy that he could not eat a bit; besides, the 
gingerbread was too hard for his teeth. 

It was now decided that John should come to the 
castle again on the following morning. All the judges 
and the cotmcil would then be assembled to hear him 
give his answer to the question. If he succeeded he 
would still have to come twice more. But no one had 
ever yet succeeded in guessing aright the first time, and 
so all had lost their lives. 

John was not at all worried about himself and his 
probable fate. Instead, he was in very good spirits and 
thought only of the lovely princess. He believed sin- 
cerely that the good Lord would help him. But in what 
manner he had not the faintest idea, and moreover 
refused to think about it. He danced along the highway 
on his way back to the inn, where his Fellow Traveler 
was waiting for him. 

John could not talk enough about how kind the 
princess had been toward him, and how beautiful she 
was. He was already longing for the next day, when 
he was to go to the castle to try his luck at guessing. 

But his companion shook his head and was very sad. 

like you very much,” he said. '‘We might have 
been together a long time yet, and now I am to lose you ! 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


i8i 


Poor dear John, I could really cry, but I would not spoil 
your joy on perhaps the last evening we are together. 
Let us be merry, very merry. To-morrow, when you 
are gone, is time enough to weep!’' 

All the people of the city had heard that a new suitor 
had come, and there was general mourning. The theater 
was closed; all the cake women tied black ribbons on 
their sugar cakes; and the king and the bishops prayed 
on their knees in the church. So great was the sorrow 
in the city, for all believed that John would have no better 
success than all the other suitors before him. 

Along in the evening John’s companion made a great 
bowl of pimch, saying that they must be right merry 
and drink to the princess’ health. But when John had 
drunk two glasses he became so sleepy that it was impos- 
sible for him to keep his eyes open, and he fell fast asleep. 
His companion lifted him quietly from his chair and laid 
him on his bed. Then, at dead of night, he took the two 
great wings he had struck off the dead swan, and tied 
them on his shoulders. In his pocket he put the largest 
of the bundles of switches which had been given him by 
the old woman who fell and broke her leg. Then he 
opened the window and flew out over the city, straight 
to the castle. There he seated himself in a corner imder 
the window of the princess’ bedroom. 

The whole city was quiet. Then, as the clock struck 
twelve, the window opened and the princess, in a long 
white cloak, flew out on great black wings away over 
the city and out to a great moimtain. But the Fellow 
Traveler made himself invisible and flew behind her, 
whipping her with his switches so hard that the blood 
came at every stroke. What a flight that was! The 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


182 

wind caught her cloak and spread it wide like a great 
sail, and the moon shone through it. 

‘'How it hails! How it hails!” said the princess at 
every blow of the switches. And it was the best thing 
for her. At last she reached the mountain and knocked. 
There was a rumbling like thunder as the mountain 
opened and the princess entered. The Fellow Traveler 
followed after her, for no one could see him, as he was 
quite invisible. 

They went through a great, long passage which 
glittered in a very strange way, for more than a thousand 
spiders, gleaming like fire, ran up and down the walls, 
then they entered a great room built of silver and gold. 
Flowers, red and blue, and as large as sunflowers, shone 
from the walls. But no one could pick those flowers, 
for the stems were evil, poisonous snakes, and the flowers 
were flames coming out of their mouths. The whole 
ceiling was studded with shining glowworms, and sky- 
blue bats that flapped their transparent wings. It was 
a most extraordinary sight. In the middle of the floor 
was a throne, held up by the skeletons of four horses, 
with harnesses of red, fiery spiders like those on the walls. 
The throne itself was of milk-white glass, and the cushions 
were small black mice holding one another’s tails with 
their teeth. Over the throne was a canopy of rose- 
colored spiders’ webs set with the prettiest little green 
flies, which glittered like gems. On the throne sat an 
old ogre, with a crown on his hideous head and a scepter 
in his hand. He kissed the princess on the forehead, 
and made her sit beside him on the gorgeous throne. 
Then the music began. Great black grasshoppers played 
on jewsharps, and the owl beat time on his stomach. 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


183 


for he had no drum. That was a queer concert. Little 
black goblins, each with a firefly on his cap, danced 
around in the room. No one could see the Fellow Trav- 
eler. He had placed himself just behind the throne, 
where he could see and hear everything that went on. 

The courtiers, who now came in, looked very grand 
and distinguished, but any one who had his eyes with 
him could see at once how and what they really were. 
They were nothing but cabbage heads stuck on the ends 
of broomsticks, which the ogre had brought to life by 
his witchery and dressed up in embroidered clothes. 
But that did not matter, for they were used only for 
ornamental purposes. 

After the dancing had gone on a little while, the 
princess told the ogre that a new suitor had arrived, and 
asked what she had better think of for the suitor to guess 
the following morning, when he was to come to the castle. 

''Listen!” said the ogre. "Ill tell you what to do! 
Choose something very easy, and then he will never 
guess what it is. Think of one of your shoes. He will 
not guess that. Then have his head chopped off, but do 
not forget when you come to-morrow night to bring me 
his eyes. I want to eat them!” 

The princess made a deep curtsy and said she would 
not forget the eyes. The ogre then opened the mountain 
and the princess flew home again. . But the Fellow 
Traveler followed her, beating her very hard with the 
switches. She complained bitterly because of the severe 
hailstorm, and hurried as fast as she could through the 
window into her bedroom. But the Fellow Traveler 
flew back to the inn where John still slept, took off his 
wings, and lay down on the bed, too, for he was very tired. 


1 84 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

It was very early in the morning when John awoke. 
The Fellow Traveler also got up and said that he had 
dreamed a very strange dream during the night about 
the princess and her shoe. He asked John, therefore, 
to be sme to ask whether it could be her shoe that the 
princess had thought of! For that was what he had 
heard the ogre say in the mountain. He did not tell 
John anything about that, however, but only begged 
him to ask whether she had thought of her shoe. 

I might as well ask about one thing as another,” said 
John. '‘Perhaps what you dreamed may be true, for I 
do believe that the Lord will help me! But I will say 
good-by, for if I guess wrong I shall never see you again!” 

So they kissed each other, and John went into the 
city and up to the castle. The hall was full of people. 
The judges sat in their armchairs, their heads resting on 
feather pillows, because they had so much to think about. 
The old king stood up, drying his eyes with a white 
handkerchief. Now the princess entered. She was still 
lovelier than she had been the day before, and greeted 
everybody graciously. But to John she held out her 
hand, saying, "Good morning, friend!” 

Now the moment came for John to guess what the 
princess had thought of. She looked at him in a very 
friendly way, but when she heard him utter the word 
"shoe,” her face turned as white as a sheet, and she 
trembled all over. But that did not help her any, for 
he had guessed correctly! 

Goodness preserve us, how happy the old king was! 
He turned one handspring after the other on the palace 
floor, and everybody clapped his hands for him and for 
John, who had guessed right the first time.’ 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


185 

The Fellow Traveler also was very glad when he found 
out how happily things had turned out. But John folded 
his hands and thanked God, who surely would help him 
the next two times also. The very next day was fixed 
for his second trial at guessing. 

That evening was passed in the same way as the 
previous evening. While John slept, his companion 
flew after the princess to the mountain, beating her even 
more severely than the first time, for this time he had 
taken two btmdles of switches with him. 

No one saw him, and he heard everything. The 
princess was to think of her glove, and this he told to 
John as if he had dreamed it. 

So John guessed correctly again, and there was great 
joy at the castle. The whole court threw handsprings 
just as they had seen the king do the first time. But 
the princess lay upon the sofa, and would not say a single 
word! 

Now everything depended upon whether John could 
guess correctly the third time. If he did, he would win 
the princess and inherit the entire kingdom when the old 
king died; if he guessed wrong, he would lose his life and 
the ogre would eat his fine blue eyes. 

When evening came, John went to bed early, said his 
prayers, and slept very peacefully and well. But the 
Fellow Traveler fastened the wings to his back, tied the 
sword at his side, and, taking all three bimdles of switches 
in his hand, flew away to the castle. 

It was pitch dark, and such a storm was raging that 
the tiles flew off the roofs of the houses, and the trees in 
the garden where the skeletons hung bent in the wind 
like reeds. The lightning flashed every moment and the 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


1 86 

thunder rolled in one continuous crash that lasted all 
night. Now the window opened, and the princess came 
flying out. 

She was as pale as death, but she laughed at the fearful 
storm and thought it was not bad enough. Her white 
cloak whirled and flapped in the wind like a great sail, 
but the Fellow Traveler whipped her with his switches 
till the blood dripped down to the grotmd and she could 
hardly fly any farther. At last, however, she reached 
the moimtain. 

'‘A storm is raging, and it is hailing,” she said. 
“ Never have I been out in such weather.” 

”One can get too much of even a good thing!” said 
the ogre. Then the princess told him that John had also 
guessed aright the second time. If he did the same 
to-morrow again, he would have won, and she could never 
again come to the mountain and never work enchant- 
ments as . before. It made her very sad to think 
about it. 

”He will never guess!” said the ogre. ”I will hit on 
something he never has thought of! Otherwise he must 
be a greater magician than I am. But now let us be 
merry!” 

He took the princess by both hands and danced 
aroimd with all the little goblins and fireflies in the room. 
The glowing spiders ran just as merrily up and down the 
walls, and it looked as if the Are flowers threw out sparks. 
The owl beat his drum, the crickets piped, and the black 
grasshoppers played their harps. That was a gay ball! 

When they had danced as long as they wanted to it 
was time for the princess to go home, for otherwise they 
might have missed her at the castle. The ogre said he 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 187 

would accompany her, so they could be together that 
much longer. 

So away they flew through the storm, the Fellow 
Traveler beating them on the back with his switches. 
Never had the ogre been out in such a hailstorm! Out- 
side the castle he said good-by to the princess, and 
whispered, '‘Think of my head!” But the Fellow Trav- 
eler heard it, and just as the princess slipped through 
the window into her bedroom, and the ogre turned 
aroimd to go back, he seized him by his long black beard 
and chopped off his ugly head with his sword so quickly 
that the ogre himself did not even see how it happened. 
The body he threw into the sea to the fishes, but the 
head he merely dipped into the water, and, tying it up 
in his silk handkerchief, took it home with him to the 
inn. Then he went to bed. 

Next morning he gave John the handkerchief, but 
told him not to untie it until the princess asked him what 
it was she had thought of. 

There were so many people in the great hall of the 
castle that they were packed together like radishes tied 
in a bimch. The council sat in their chairs with their 
soft downy pillows, and the old king wore a new suit 
of clothes. His golden crown and the scepter had been 
polished, and everything looked splendid! But the 
princess was very pale, and wore a jet-black dress as 
though she were going to a funeral. 

“What have I thought about?” she asked John. He 
immediately untied the handkerchief, and was himself 
very much frightened when he saw the ogre's ugly head. 
Everybody shuddered, it was such an awful thing to 
look at; but the princess sat as if tiirned to stone, and 


i88 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


could not utter a single word. At last she arose and 
held out her hand to John, for he had guessed aright the 
third time. She would look at no one, but sighed deeply 
and said, '‘You are my master now! To-night our 
wedding shall take place!” 

' ‘ That is just fine ! ’ ’ said the old king. ' ‘ That ’s what 
I like to hear!” Everybody shouted hurrah, the royal 
band played in the streets, the bells rang, and the cake 
women removed the black ribbons from their sugar 
cakes, for now all was rejoicing. Three oxen, roasted 
whole and stuffed with ducks and chickens, were set out* 
in the public square, and everybody could cut a piece 
for himself. The fountains ran with the finest wine 
instead of water, and any one who bought a cake at the 
baker’s got six big buns into the bargain, and stuffed 
with raisins, too. 

In the evening the whole city was illuminated, the 
soldiers fired cannon, and the boys shot off firecrackers 
and pinwheels. Up at the castle there was eating and 
drinking and toasting and dancing. All the grand 
gentlemen and lovely ladies danced together, and their 
voices could be heard at a great distance as they sang: 

See the merry maidens fair, 

Gayly whirling in the dance; 

They love best a merry polka 
And laugh to see their partners prance. 

Dancing, prancing, 

See the slippers fly! 

But the princess was still a witch, and did not care 
for John at all. The Fellow Traveler remembered this, 
and he therefore gave John three feathers from the 
swan’s wings and a little bottle containing a few drops 


THE FELLOW TRAVELER 


189 

of something. Then he told him that he shotild have a 
large tub of water placed beside the bride’s bed, and, 
when the princess was climbing into bed he should give 
her a little push so that she would fall into the water. 
Then he was to dip her under three times, first throwing 
in the feathers and the drops out of the bottle. This 
would free her from the magic spell, and she would grow 
to love him very much. 

John did everything that his companion advised 
him to do. The princess screamed loudly as he ducked 
her mider the water, and then struggled in his hands in 
the form of a great coal-black swan with glittering eyes. 
The second time she came up out of the water the swan 
had turned white, except for a single black ring aroimd 
its neck. John prayed fervently to God, and let the 
water cover the bird a third time. At that same moment 
it changed into the most beautiful princess. She was 
even lovelier than before, and she thanked John, with 
tears in her beautiful eyes, for having freed her from the 
enchantment. 

The next morning the old king came with aU his 
coiirt, and there were constant congratulations imtil late 
in the day. Last of all came the Fellow Traveler. He 
had his staff in his hand and his knapsack on his back. 
John kissed him many times, and said that he must not 
go away; he must stay with him, for he was the cause of 
all his good forttme. But the Fellow Traveler shook his 
head and said, quietly and kindly, ^‘No, now my time 
is up. I have merely paid my debt. Do you remember 
the dead man whom the wicked men wanted to mistreat? 
You gave all you possessed that he might rest in peace 
in his grave. I am that dead man!” 


190 ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 

Saying this, he was gone. 

The wedding festivities lasted a whole month. John 
and the princess loved each other very much, and the 
old king lived many happy days, trotting his little 
grand-children on his knee and giving them his scepter 
to play with. 

But John was king over all the land. 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


In China, as of course you know, the Emperor is a 
Chinaman, and all those he has about him are China- 
men. The events in this story happened a good many 
years ago, but that's just why the story should be told 
before it is forgotten. The Emperor's palace was the 
most splendid in the world; it was made wholly and 
entirely of fine porcelain — very costly, and so delicate 
and brittle that only with the greatest care could one 
touch it. In the garden were wonderful flowers, and to 
the most beautiful of these were fastened silver bells, 
which tinkled continuously so that none could pass by 
without noticing the flower. Yes, the Emperor's garden 
was arranged with admirable foresight, and it extended 
so far that the gardener himself did not know where it 
ended. If anyone would keep walking in it he would 
come to a magnificent forest of high trees with deep 
lakes. On one side the woods extended straight down 
to the sea, which was blue and deep. Great ships could 
sail right in under the branches. Here lived a Nightin- 
gale, which sang so beautifully that even the poor fisher- 
man, though he had many other things to do, would lie 
still and listen when he went at night to draw in his 
nets. 

^^My, now beautiful that is!" he would say; then, 
obliged to attend to his work, he would forget the bird. 
But the next night when it sang again, the fisherman 
would listen, and once more exclaim, " My, how beautiful 
that is!" 

From all the countries of the world came travelers 


192 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


to the city of the Emperor. They admired the palace 
and the garden, but when they heard the Nightingale 
they said, '‘That is the best of all!” And, when they 
went home, the travelers told about, and the learned 
men wrote many books about, the city, the palace, and 
the garden. But they did not forget the Nightingale. 
They praised it above ever3rthing else. The poets wrote 
charming verses about the bird in the forest by the 
deep sea. 

The books went to every part of the world and some 
of them reached the Emperor. He sat in his golden 
chair, and read, and read. Every moment he nodded 
his head up and down, for it pleased him to read the 
splendid descriptions of the city, the palace, and the 
garden. 

“But the Nightingale is the best of all,” were the 
words he read. 

“What!” exclaimed the Emperor. “The Nightin- 
gale! Why, I don’t know the Nightingale at all! Is 
there such a bird in my empire — in my own garden 
even! I’ve never heard of it! To think that I should 
have to learn such a thing from a book!” 

Thereupon he called his Chamberlain. This Cham- 
berlain was so proud and haughty that if anyone lower 
in rank than himself dared speak to him or ask him any 
question, he answered nothing but “P!” — which, of 
course, meant nothing. 

“There is said to be a very remarkable bird here 
called the Nightingale,” said the Emperor. “They say 
it is the very best thing in all my great empire. Why 
has nothing ever been said to me about it?” 

“I have never before heard it mentioned,” replied 


THE NIGHTINGALE 193 

the Chamberlain. ‘Ht has never been presented at 
Coiirt.’* 

command that it shall appear here this evening 
and sing for me!'' said the Emperor. ^'The whole world 
knows what I possess, and I, myself, do not know!" 

"I have never before heard it mentioned," repeated 
the Chamberlain. ^'I will make search for it. I will 
find it!" 

But where was it to be foimd? The Chamberlain 
ran up and down all the stairs, through rooms and halls, 
but no one among all those he met had ever heard of the 
Nightingale. The Chamberlain ran back to the Emperor 
and said that it must be a fable invented by those who 
wrote books. 

"Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe everything 
that is written. Writing is merely inventing — some- 
thing that they call the black art!" 

"But the book in which I read this," said the Em- 
peror, "is sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor 
of Japan, and therefore it cannot be false. I will hear 
the Nightingale! It must be here this evening! It 
has my imperial favor! And if it does not come, the 
entire Court shall be thumped on the stomach to-night 
after it has had supper!" 

"Tsing-pe!" said the Chamberlain; and again he ran 
up and down all the stairs and through all the halls and 
corridors; half the Court ran with him, for they did not 
want to be thumped on the stomach. 

People far and near were asked concerning the won- 
derful Nightingale, which, it seemed, was known to all the 
world, but not to a single person at the Emperor's Court. 

At last they came upon a poor little girl in the kitchen, 
13 


194 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


who said: ‘‘The Nightingale? Why yes, I know it 
well. My, how gloriously it does sing! Every evening 
I am allowed to carry a few scraps from the table to my 
poor sick mother, who lives down by the shore. When 
I am on my way back and am tired, I rest in the wood, 
and then I hear the Nightingale sing! Then the tears 
come into my eyes, for it is just as if my mother 
kissed me!” 

“Little kitchen girl,” said the Chamberlain, “I will 
get you a permanent place in the kitchen, with permis- 
sion to see the Emperor dine, if you will but lead us to 
the Nightingale, for there is a command that it appear 
this evening.” 

Then they all went out into the wood where the Night- 
ingale was accustomed to sing; half the Coiirt went out. 
When they were well on the way a cow began to low. 

“Oh!” cried the Courtiers. “There it is! What 
wonderful power in so small a creature! I have certainly 
heard it before.” 

“No, those are the cows lowing,” said the little kitchen 
girl. “We are still a long way from the place.” 

Now the frogs began to croak in the pond. 

“Glorious! ” said the Chinese Court Chaplain. “ Now 
I hear it. The sound is like little church bells.” 

“No,” said the little kitchen maid, “you hear frogs. 
But I think we shall soon hear it.” 

And then the Nightingale began to sing. 

“That is it!” said the little girl. “Listen, listen! — 
and yonder it sits!” And she pointed to a little gray 
bird up among the branches. 

“Is it possible?” cried the Chamberlain. “I never 
imagined it looked like that! How very simple it looks! 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


195 

It must certainly have lost its color at seeing so many 
grand people near it.’’ 

''Little Nightingale,” cried the kitchen maid quite 
loudly, "our gracious Emperor wishes so much to have 
you sing for him.” 

"With the greatest pleasure!” said the Nightingale, 
and began to sing gloriously. 

"It soimds like crystal bells!” said the Chamberlain. 
"And look at its little throat, how it’s working! It is 
remarkable that we should never have heard it before. 
It will be a great success at Court.” 

"Shall I sing once more for the Emperor?” inquired 
the Nightingale, thinking that the Emperor was present. 

"My excellent little Nightingale,” said the Chamber- 
lain, "I have the great pleasure to invite you to a Court 
festival this evening, where you can charm his Imperial 
Highness with your lovely song.” 

"My song soimds best in the green wood,” said the 
Nightingale; still, it went gladly when it heard that 
such was the Emperor’s wish. 

The palace was festively adorned. The walls and 
the floors, which were of porcelain, gleamed in the rays 
of thousands of golden lamps. The most exquisite 
flowers — those which tinkled merrily — had been placed 
in the corridors. There was much running to and fro; 
and a strong draft which caused the bells to ring so loudly 
that one could hardly hear one’s self talk. 

In the midst of the great hall where the Emperor sat, 
a golden perch had been placed. On this the Nightingale 
was to stand. The whole Court was there, and the 
little kitchen maid had permission to stand behind the 
door, for she had received the title of Court Cook. All 


196 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


were in full regalia, and everyone looked at the little 
gray bird, to which the Emperor nodded. 

Then the Nightingale sang, and so enchantingly that 
the tears came into the Emperor’s eyes and ran down 
over his cheeks. The Nightingale sang a second time, 
and still more sweetly, and the song went straight to the 
heart. The Emperor was so well pleased that he said 
the Nightingale should have his golden slipper to wear 
arotmd its neck. But the Nightingale thanked him and 
said that it had already received sufficient reward. 

have seen tears in the Emperor’s eyes — that is 
rich compensation. An Emperor’s tears have a peculiar 
power. I am rewarded enough!” And again its throat 
trembled and there was a glorious burst of song. 

“That is the sweetest coquetry I ever saw!” said 
the ladies who stood round, and then they held water 
in their mouths so as to gurgle when anyone spoke to 
them, thinking that by these means they could equal 
the Nightingale. The lackeys and ladies-in-waiting 
expressed themselves as perfectly satisfied; and that 
meant a great deal, for they of all people are the most 
difficult to please. 

In short, the Nightingale achieved a great success. 
It was now to remain at Court, to have its own cage, 
with liberty to take a promenade twice a day and once 
each night. Twelve servants accompanied the Night- 
ingale when it went out. Each of them had a silken 
string, one end of which was fastened to the bird’s leg; 
to these they held very tight. There was no pleasure 
at all in such an outing. 

The whole city talked about the wonderful bird, and 
whenever two people met, one of them said nothing 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


197 


but ‘‘Nightin — and the other finished with ‘*gale!’' 
and then they both sighed, in complete imderstanding. 
Eleven grocers’ children were named after the bird, 
but not one- of them could sing a note. 

One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on 
which was written, '‘Nightingale.” 

“Here we have a new book about our celebrated bird,” 
said the Emperor. But it was not a book. It was a 
little work of art lying in a rich casket — an artificial 
Nightingale. It was intended to resemble the real one; 
but it was brilliantly set with diamonds, rubies, and 
sapphires. When the artificial bird was wound up, it 
could sing one of the songs that the live bird sang, and 
could move its tail up and down. It shone with silver 
and gold. Round its neck hung a little ribbon, and on 
that was written: “The Emperor of Japan’s Nightin- 
gale is poor compared to that of the Emperor of China.” 

“That is splendid!” said all, and he who had 
brought the artificial bird immediately received the 
title, Imperial-Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 

“Now they must sing together; what a duet that 
will be!” 

And so the birds had to sing together; but it did not 
sound very well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own 
way, and the artificial bird sang in waltz time. 

“It is not to blame,” said the concert master; “it 
sings in perfect time and quite according to my method.” 

Then the artificial bird had to sing alone and made 
just as great a success as the real one. Moreover, it 
was much prettier to look at, glittering like bracelets 
and breastpins. 

Three and thirty times over did it sing the same piece. 


198 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and yet was not tired. The people would gladly have 
heard it over again from the beginning, but the Emperor 
said that he thought the living Nightingale, too, ought 
to sing a little. But where was it? No one had noticed 
that it had flown away out of the open window, back 
to its green, leafy woods. 

“But what is the meaning of this?” said the Em- 
peror, and all the Courtiers scolded, and declared that 
the Nightingale was a most imgrateful creature. 

“Nevertheless,” they said, “we still have the better 
bird.” 

And so the artificial bird had to sing again. This 
was the thirty-fourth time that they had listened to the 
same piece. They did not yet quite know it by heart, 
for it was so very difficult. The concert master praised 
the bird extravagantly. He declared that it was better 
than the real Nightingale, not only in the matter of its 
plumage and the many beautiful diamonds, but of the 
works as well. 

“For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, 
your Imperial Majesty, with a real Nightingale one can 
never calculate what is coming, but in this artificial bird 
everything is certain. One can explain it; one can open 
it and make people imderstand where the waltzes come 
from, how they go, and how one note follows another.” 

“Those are my own ideas, exactly,” everyone said. 

And the concert master received permission to show 
the bird to the people on the next Sunday. They were 
also to hear it sing, for so the Emperor had commanded. 
And they did hear it, and were as well pleased as if they 
had all drunk themselves merry on tea — that is the 
Chinese fashion. They all said, “Oh!” and held up 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


199 

their forefingers and nodded. But the poor fisheiman, 
who had heard the real Nightingale, said: 

'‘It soiinds pretty enough, and the melodies resemble 
each other, but there’s something lacking, though I don’t 
know what!” 

The real Nightingale was banished from the empire. 
The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion close 
by the Emperor’s bed. All the presents it had received — 
gold and precious stones — were ranged about it, and 
in title it had advanced to be the High Imperial After- 
Dinner Singer, and in rank to Number One on the left 
hand; for the Emperor considered that side the most 
exalted which was nearest his heart — and the heart is 
on the left side, even in an Emperor. The concert master 
wrote a work of five and twenty volumes about the 
artificial bird. It was very learned and full of the most 
difficult Chinese words. Therefore, all the people de- 
clared that they had read it and imderstood it. Other- 
wise they would have been considered stupid, and would 
have been thumped on the stomach. 

A whole year went by. The Emperor, the Court, and 
all the other Chinese knew every little twitter in the 
artificial bird’s song by heart. But just for that reason 
it pleased them most, for they could join in the song with 
it; and this they always did. The street boys sang, 
“Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug-glug!” and the Emperor himself 
sang it! Yes, that was certainly splendid. 

But one evening when the artificial bird was singing 
its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, some- 
thing inside the bird said, “Zip!” Something snapped. 
“Whirr-r!” All the wheels ran round, and then the 
music stopped. 


200 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed and sent 
for his body physician; but what could the doctor do? 
Then they sent for the watchmaker, and after much 
talking and investigation, he got the bird put into some- 
thing like order; but he said that it must be carefully 
treated, and used as little as possible, for the works were 
worn, and it would be impossible to put in new ones in 
such a manner that the music would be correct. There 
was great lamentation! Only once a year was the bird 
to be permitted to sing, and even that was almost too 
much! But then the concert master made a little 
speech, full of difficult words, and said that it was just 
as good as before, and then, of course, it was as good as 
before. 

Five years went by, and then a great grief came to 
the whole nation. The Chinese were really fond of their 
Emperor, and now he was ill and could not, it was said, 
live much longer. Already a new Emperor had been 
chosen. The people stood in the street outside the palace 
and asked the Chamberlain how their Emperor was 
getting on. 

“P!” said he, and shook his head. 

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great, magni- 
ficent bed; the whole Court thought him dead, and every 
one of them ran to pay homage to the new Emperor. 
The pages ran out to talk it over, and the ladies’ maids 
had a great coffee party. Everywhere, in all the rooms 
and corridors, cloth had been laid down so that no foot- 
step should be heard; and so it was very, very quiet there. 

But the Emperor was not yet dead. Stiff and pale 
he lay on the gorgeous bed with the long velvet curtains 
and the heavy gold tassels; high up a window stood open. 



Page 196 

The Nightingale sang so enchantingly that tears came into the Ernperofs eyes 








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THE NIGHTINGALE 


201 


and the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the 
artificial Nightingale. 

The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it was just 
as if something weighed heavily upon his chest. He 
opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Death that 
sat on his breast. He had put on the Emperor's golden 
crown, and in one hand he held the Emperor’s sword, 
and in the other, his beautiful banner. All aroimd, from 
among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, strange 
heads peered, some evil and repulsive, others beautiful 
and kindly. These were all the Emperor’s bad and good 
deeds, that stood before him now when Death sat upon 
his breast. 

“Do you remember this?” whispered one. “Do you 
remember that?” said another, and they told him of 
so many things that the perspiration stood out on his 
forehead. 

“I never knew that!” said the Emperor. “Give 
me music! music! Sound the great Chinese drums,” 
he cried, “so that I may not hear all that they are 
saying!” 

But they continued speaking, and Death nodded like 
a Chinaman to all that was said. 

“Music! music!” cried the Emperor. “You little 
precious golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold 
and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper 
roimd yoiu: neck. Oh, sing now, sing!” 

But the bird remained silent; no one was there to wind 
it up, and so it could not sing. But Death continued 
to stare at the Emperor with his great empty eye sockets, 
and it was fearfully quiet. 

Then there suddenly soimded, close by the window. 


202 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


a lovely song. Outside on a branch sat the little live 
Nightingale. It had heard of the Emperor’s plight and 
had come to sing to him of comfort and hope. As it 
sang the specters grew paler and paler and the blood 
ran quicker and quicker through the Emperor’s weak 
body. Death himself listened, and said: 

“Keep on, little Nightingale, keep on!” 

“Then will you give me the splendid golden sword? 
Will you give me the rich banner? Will you give me 
the Emperor’s crown?” 

And Death gave up all these treasmes for song. The 
Nightingale sang on and on; it sang of the quiet church- 
yard where the white roses grow, where the elder blos- 
soms fill the air with fragrance, and the fresh grass is 
watered by the tears of those whom the dead leave 
behind. Then Death felt a longing to return to his quiet 
garden, and like a cold white mist floated out at the 
window. 

“Thanks! thanks!” said the Emperor. “You 
heavenly little bird; I know you well! I banished you 
from my empire, and yet you have come back and with 
your song driven away the evil visions from my bed, and 
drawn Death from my heart! How can I reward you?” 

“You have rewarded me!” replied the Nightingale. 
“Tears came to your eyes when I sang to you for the 
first time — I shall never forget. Such are the jewels 
that delight a singer’s heart. But sleep now, and rest. 
You will be strong again. I shall sing to you.” 

It sang, and the Emperor fell into a peaceful sleep. 
Ah! how invigorating that sleep was! The sim shone 
upon him through the windows when he awoke, refreshed 
and restored; not one of his servants had yet returned. 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


203 

for they all thought he was dead. But the Nightingale 
still sat beside him, singing. 

'‘You must stay with me always,’' said the Emperor. 
“You shall sing only when you please and I’ll break the 
artificial bird into a thousand pieces.” 

“Do not do that,” replied the Nightingale. “It 
did as well as it could ; keep it as you have always done. 
I cannot build my nest in the palace or dwell in it. But 
let me come when I please; and in the evening I will sit 
on the bough yonder by the window, and sing for you; 
then you will be both glad and thoughtful. I will sing 
of those who are happy and of those who suffer. I will 
sing of the good and the evil that lie hidden roimd about 
you. The little songbird fiies far, to the poor fisherman, 
to the peasant’s roof, to all who dwell far away from you 
and from your Court. I love your heart more than your 
crown, and yet there is an air of sanctity about the crown, 
too. I will come and I will sing to you — but one thing 
you must promise me.” 

“Everything!” said the Emperor; and he stood there 
in his imperial robes, which he had himself put on, and 
held to his heart the sword which was heavy with gold. 

“One thing I ask of you. Never say that you 
have a little bird that tells you everything. It will be 
better so.” 

And the Nightingale flew away. 

Then the servants came in to see their dead Emperor, 
and — there they remained standing. 

“ Good morning,” said the Emperor. 


THE BEETLE 


The emperor’s horse was being shod with golden 
shoes — a gold shoe on each foot. 

Why was he to have golden shoes? 

He was the loveliest creature, with fine slender legs, 
intelligent eyes, and a mane which hung like a veil of 
silk down over his neck. He had carried his master 
amid the smoke of gimpowder and hail of lead, and had 
heard the whining song of bullets. He had taken part 
in the struggle against the foe. He had used his teeth, 
biting about him savagely, and had kicked out in every 
direction. With his emperor he had made a leap over 
the prostrate horse of the enemy, and so had saved his 
emperor’s red-gold crown. Moreover, he had saved his 
emperor’s life, and that was worth more than gold. 

That is why the emperor’s horse was now being shod 
with golden shoes — a golden shoe on each foot. 

Now the Beetle crept forth. 

'‘First the great, then the small,” it said, “though 
it is not always the size that does it.” And it stretched 
out its thin legs toward the smith. 

“What do you want?” asked the blacksmith. 

“Gold shoes!” said the Beetle. “Am I not just as 
good as that big beast yonder, that is waited upon, c\u:- 
ried, tended, and given food and drink? Do I not belong 
to the imperial stable, too?” 

“But why does the horse get gold shoes?” asked the 
smith. “Can you not grasp that?” 

“Grasp? I grasp that it is a mark of small respect 
toward me,” said the Beetle. “ It is an injiuy, an insult, 


204 


THE BEETLE 


205 


and so now I am going away into the wide world/' 

''Get along with you!" said the smith. 

"Ruffian!" said the Beetle. Then he went outside 
a little way and thus came into a beautiful little flower 
garden, fragrant with roses and lavender. 

"How lovely it is here!" said one of the little lady- 
birds which flew about with black dots on their strong red 
shields. ' ‘ How sweet it smells and how pretty it is here ! ’ ’ 

"I am used to better things," said the Beetle. "Do 
you call this place pretty? Why, there is not even a 
dtmgheap." 

And then he continued on his way, into the shade 
of a large gillyflower on the stalk of which crawled a 
caterpillar. 

"Oh, how lovely the world is!" said the caterpillar. 
"The sun is so nice and warm! Everything is so enjoy- 
able! And finally I shall fall asleep and die, as they call 
it; then I shall wake up as a butterfly!" 

"What notions you have!" said the Beetle. "Flutter 
about like a butterfly, indeed ! I come from the emperor's 
stable, but no one there, not even the emperor's favorite 
horse who wears my cast-off gold shoes has such crazy 
notions. Get wings! Fly! Indeed! Yes, now let us 
fly!" 

And then away flew the Beetle. "I do not want to 
feel vexed, but still, I am vexed." 

Then it came down with a thump on a large patch of 
grass. Here it lay a little while and then fell asleep. 

Gracious, what a shower poured down! The Beetle 
was awakened by the splash, and immediately tried to 
get down into the grotmd, but could not. It ttmibled 
over and over, swam on its stomach, and then on its 


206 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


back. Flying was out of the question. It was doubtful 
if it could get away from that spot alive. There it lay 
and there it remained lying. 

When the rain had moderated a little and the Beetle 
had blinked the water out of its eyes, it perceived some- 
thing white. It was linen that had been placed on the 
grass to bleach. The Beetle managed to reach the cloth 
and crawl into one of the wet folds. This was certainly 
not like lying in the dungheap in the warm stable. But 
there was nothing better to be had, and so it stayed there 
a whole day and a whole night; and the rainy weather 
stayed, too. In the early morning the Beetle came out. 
He was terribly vexed at the climate. 

On the linen sat two frogs. Their bright eyes shone 
with enjoyment. 'Ht is blessed weather!” said one of 
them. “How refreshing it is! And the linen gathers 
the water so nicely! I feel a sensation in my hind legs 
as if I just had to swim.” 

“I should like to know,” said the other, “whether 
the swallow which flies so far and wide has ever found 
on its many journeys to foreign lands a better climate 
than ours. Such a drizzle and such wetness! It is just 
like lying in a wet ditch! Anyone who is not glad and 
happy because of it certainly does not love his native 
coimtry.” 

“You have never been in the emperor’s stable, have 
you?” asked the Beetle. “There the wetness is both 
warm and spicy! That is what I am accustomed to. 
That is my climate, but of course a person cannot take 
it with him when he goes traveling. Is there not a hotbed 
here in the garden where a person of distinction like 
myself can take up quarters and feel at home?” 


THE BEETLE 


207 


But the frogs did not, or would not, understand him. 

'‘I never ask a question twice,'' said the Beetle, when 
it had asked three times without getting a reply. 

Then it walked away a short distance. There lay a 
fragment of an earthen jar which should not have been 
there. It lay in such a way as to provide a shelter, 
and beneath it lived several earwig families. They did 
not require much house room — just sociability. The 
females are particularly gifted with mother love, and for 
that reason each one thought her child the most beautiful 
and the most intelligent. 

'^Otu* son is engaged to be married," said one mother, 
‘^the sweet innocent! His highest aim is at some time 
to be able to crawl into someone's ear. He is so dear 
and childlike, and his engagement keeps him steady. 
That is such a joy for a mother." 

"Our son," said another mother, "got right out of 
the egg and was immediately out to see what he could 
stir up ; he is so bursting with life and spirit. He will 
surely run his horns off. What an enormous happiness 
for a mother! Isn't that true, Mr. Beetle?" They 
recognized the stranger by the sheath he wore. 

"You are both right," said the Beetle; and then he 
was invited into the room — as far as he could get tmder 
the broken fragment. 

"Now you must see my little earwigs, too," said a 
third mother, and a fourth. "They are the dearest 
children and so funny! They are never naughty except 
when they have a stomach ache, and at their age that 
is very easy to have." 

And then each mother talked about her children; 
and the young ones talked with them and, with the little 


208 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


fork on the end of their tails, pulled the Beetle’s whiskers. 

‘‘They are always finding all kinds of things to do, 
the little rogues!” said the mothers, almost bursting 
with mother love. But it bored the Beetle and he asked 
if it was far from there to the hotbed. 

''That is far out in the world, on the other side of 
the ditch,” said the earwig, "so far as that I hope none 
of my children will ever go, for then I should certainly 
die.” 

"Still, I am going to try to go that far,” said the 
Beetle; and away he went without saying good-by. That 
is the most fashionable way to do. 

By the side of the ditch he met others of his own kind 
— all beetles. 

"We live here,” they said. "It is warm and com- 
fortable! Will you accept an invitation to step down 
here an enjoy the fat of the land? You must be weary 
after your joiuney.” 

"That I am,” said the Beetle. "I have had to lie 
on linen in the rain, and cleanliness is very trying to me. 
I have also taken rheumatism in my wing joint from 
standing in the draft imder a fragment of earthen jar. It 
certainly is refreshing to meet one’s own kind again.” 

"You have come, perhaps, from the hotbed?” asked 
the eldest of the beetles. 

"Higher up,” said the Beetle. "I come from the 
emperor’s stable where I was bom with golden shoes. 
I am traveling on a secret mission about which you must 
not bother me with questions for I will not say what 
it is.” 

And then the Beetle stepped down into the soft, 
rich mud. There sat three young lady beetles. They 


THE BEETLE 


209 


giggled because they did not know what they should say. 

'‘They are not engaged/' said the mother. And then 
they giggled again, but this time from bashfulness. 

"I have seen none more beautiful in the emperor’s 
stable,” said the traveler Beetle. 

"Don’t spoil my girls for me and do not speak to 
them unless you have serious intentions. But I know 
you have and I give you my blessing.” 

"Hurrah!” said all the others, and with that the 
Beetle was engaged. 

First engagem-ent, then marriage. There was no 
reason to wait, you see. 

The next day passed very pleasantly, the second 
tolerably well, but on the third day one must begin to 
think of providing for the wife and perhaps the little 
ones. 

"I have permitted myself to be taken by surprise,” 
said the Beetle, "the only thing to do is to surprise them 
in return.” 

And surprise them he did. He was gone, gone all 
day and gone all night; and the wife was a widow. The 
other Beetles said that they had taken a vagabond into 
the family. The wife was now a burden on their hands. 

"Then she shall take her maiden name again,” said 
the mother, "and come back as my child. What a 
shameful good-for-nothing, to forsake her.” 

He, meanwhile, was well on his way. He had sailed 
across the ditch on a cabbage leaf. Along in the morning, 
two people came by, saw the Beetle, picked him up and 
turned him over and over. They were very learned, 
especially one, a boy. 

"Allah sees the black beetle in the black stone in the 


14 


210 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


black mountain side! Is it not written thus in the 
Koran?” he asked. Then he translated the Beetle’s 
name into Latin, and explained its nature and species. 
The elder scholar voted against taking it home with them 
for they had specimens that were just as good, he said. 

“That was very uncivilly spoken,” thought the Beetle 
and so it flew out of the scholar’s hand. It flew a con- 
siderable distance, for its wings had now become quite 
dry. Then it reached the hotbed, where, with the 
greatest ease, for one of the windows was open, it was 
able to slip in and dig down into the fresh rich soil. 

“How delicious,” it said. 

It soon fell asleep and dreamed that the emperor’s 
horse had fallen, and that Mr. Beetle had received his 
gold shoes and a promise of two more. That was all 
very nice, and when the Beetle awoke he crawled out 
and looked about. What splendor in that hothouse! 
Great palm leaves spread high in the air. The sun made 
them transparent, and beneath them sprang forth a 
wealth of green growing things. All about glowed 
flowers, red as Are, yellow as amber, and white as 
new-fallen snow. 

“This is a matchless splendor of foliage! How good 
it will taste when it decays!” said the Beetle. “This is 
a fine larder! There must be some of my relatives here. 
I will start a search and try to find someone with whom I 
feel that I can associate. I am proud, and that is what 
I am proud of!” Then he started out and thought of 
his dream about the dead horse and the gold shoes he 
had gained. 

All at once a hand seized the Beetle, squeezing it 
and turning it over and around. 


THE BEETLE 


211 


The gardener’s little son and a playmate had entered 
the hothouse, had seen the Beetle, and were about to 
have a little fun with it. It was wrapped in a grape-vine 
leaf and then put down into a warm trousers’ pocket. 
It wriggled and wiggled about and then got a squeeze 
from the hand of the boy who hurried off to the large 
pond at the end of the garden. There the Beetle was 
put into an old cracked wooden shoe. A stick was 
fastened to it to serve as a mast and to this the Beetle 
was tied, at the end of a woolen thread. Now it was a 
skipper and was to go sailing. 

It was not a very large pond, but the Beetle believed 
it to be a vast ocean and was so astonished and alarmed 
that it fell over on its back and kicked and 'wriggled 
its legs. 

The wooden shoe sailed along nicely, for there was a 
current in the water. But when the boat got a little 
too far out one of the boys rolled up his trousers, waded 
out, and brought it back. When it started to drift out 
again someone called the boys in a peremptory way 
they had to obey. So they hurried off, leaving the 
wooden shoe on the water. 

It drifted farther and farther from the shore. The 
Beetle was terribly frightened. Fly it could not, for it 
was tied to the mast. 

A fly paid a visit. 

‘ ‘ Lovely weather we are having, ’ ’ said the fly. ' ‘ Here 
I can rest! Here I can sit and bask in the sunshine. 
You have a very nice and agreeable time of it here!” 

“You talk according to the amount of sense you 
have!” said the Beetle. '‘Do you not see that I am tied?” 

“I am not tied,” said the fly, and flew away. 


212 


ANDERSEN^S FAIRY TALES 


'*Now I know the world/* said the Beetle; *‘and it 
is a low-down world! I am the only worthy person in 
it! First I am denied golden shoes, then I have to lie 
on wet linen and stand in a draft, and then they foist a 
wife on me. Then when I make a quick step out into 
the world to see how a person can live there and how I 
ought to live, along comes a human whelp and sets me 
on the raging ocean, tied to a mast. And meanwhile 
the emperor’s horse is wearing gold shoes! That is 
what is most exasperating. But one cannot expect 
sympathy in this world! My career has been very 
interesting, but what is the good of that when nobody 
knows it! The world doesn’t deserve to know it, else 
it would have given me golden shoes in the emperor’s 
stable, when the favorite horse was holding up its feet 
to be shod. Had they given me golden shoes, I should 
then have become an honor to the stable. Now it has 
lost me, the world has lost me. All is over!” 

But all was not yet over. A boat came by in which 
were several young girls. 

” There sails a wooden shoe,” said one of them. 

“There is a little bug tied fast in it,” said another. 

When they were close beside the wooden shoe they 
lifted it out of the water. One of the girls then brought 
out a little pair of scissors and cut the woollen thread 
without harming the Beetle, and when they reached the 
shore she set it down on the grass. 

“Creep, creep! Fly, fly! if you can!” she said. 
“Freedom is a splendid thing.” 

Right through the open window of a large building 
the Beetle flew and there sank down wearily on the fine, 
soft, long mane of the emperor’s favorite horse, which 


THE BEETLE 


213 


stood in the stable where it and the Beetle had their 
home. It clnng fast to the mane and sat a little while 
resting. 

‘'Here I sit on the emperor’s favorite horse! Here I 
sit as the rider himself! What am I saying! Why, now 
I see it all! That is a good idea and a correct one. Why 
was the horse given golden shoes? That was just what 
he asked me, too, that blacksmith fellow. Now I see 
into it! The horse was shod with golden shoes on my 
account.” 

And then the Beetle recovered his good humor. 

“Traveling makes a person clear headed,” said he. 

The sun shone in upon it, shone very beautifully, 
indeed. 

“The world is not so bad after all,” said the Beetle. 
“A person must just know how to take it!” 

The world was lovely, for the emperor’s favorite 
horse had been shod with golden shoes because the 
Beetle was to be its rider. 

“Now I will go down to the other Beetles and tell 
how much has been done for me. I will tell about all 
the pleasant things I enjoyed in my foreign travels, 
and I will say that I shall remain at home now tmtil 
the horse has worn out his golden shoes.” 


WHATEVER THE OLD MAN DOES IS 
ALWAYS RIGHT 

Now I will tell you a story I heard once when I was 
small. Every time I think of it, it becomes more and 
more charming. For it is with stories as it is with many 
people, they grow nicer and nicer with age; and that is 
really delightful! 

You have been in the country, have you not? You 
have seen a real old farmhouse with a straw-thatched 
roof? Moss and vegetables grow wild on the roof, and 
on the gable is a stork’s nest, for we could not do without 
the stork. The walls are crooked, the windows low; and 
there is but a single one of them that can be opened. 
The oven sticks out of the wall just like a little fat 
stomach, and the elderbush leans over the fence where 
there is a little pool of water with a duck or a few 
ducklings, right under the gnarled willow. And there is 
the watch-dog barking at each and all. 

There was just such a farmhouse in the coimtry, and 
in it lived a couple, a peasant and his wife. Albeit they 
had little, there was one thing more they could do with- 
out, and that was the horse, which lived on the grass 
in the ditch by the side of the road. Father rode it to 
town, he lent it to the neighbors, and he got favors in 
return. But it would be more profitable to sell the horse 
or exchange it for something or other which would be of 
still more benefit. 

But what should that something be! 

'‘That, old man, you will know best!” said the wife. 
“There is a market fair in town just now. Ride in to 


214 


WHATEVER THE OLD MAN DOES 215 

the fair, get money for the horse, or make a good trade. 
Whatever you do is always right. So ride to the fair!” 

Then she tied his neck cloth for him, for that at least 
she tmderstood better than he. She tied it in a double 
bow, for it looked smart that way; then she smoothed his 
hat with the palm of her hand and kissed him on his 
mouth. Then away he rode on the horse which he was 
to sell or trade away. Yes, indeed, the old man knew 
what he was doing! 

The sim was hot; there was not a cloud in the sky; 
and the road was dusty. There were many people 
boimd for the market, in wagons and on horseback and 
on their own legs. The heat of the sim was intense and 
there was not a spot of shade anywhere on the road. 

Among the rest walked a man driving a cow which 
was as fine and good-looking as any cow can be. 

'' I am sure she gives nice milk! ” thought the peasant. 
'Ht would be a very good exchange to get her. ‘^Look 
here, you with the cow!” he said, 'Tet us have a little 
talk. Now you see, a horse, I believe, costs more than 
a cow. But that is all the same to me. I would have 
more benefit from a cow* Shall we trade?” 

^'To be sure!” said the man with the cow. And so 
the exchange was made. 

That settled, the peasant could have turned about 
and gone home, for he had done what he had set out to 
do. But as he had once made up his mind to go to the 
fair, he was going to the fair, if just to have a look at it. 
So on he went with his cow. He walked fast and the 
cow walked fast, and they soon were walking right beside 
a man who was leading a sheep. It was a good sheep, 
well fatted and with a quantity of fleece. 


2I6 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘I should like to own that sheep,” thought the 
peasant. ^^It would have plenty of grass to eat on the 
edge of our ditch, and in winter we could take it into 
the house with us. It would really be better for us to 
keep a sheep than to keep a cow. Shall we exchange?” 
he said to the owner of the sheep. 

The other was willing, and so the trade was made. 
The peasant continued on his way along the road with 
his sheep. By the stile at the roadside he saw a man 
with a big goose under his arm. 

‘^That is a fine fellow you have there!” he said to the 
man. ”It has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat, too! 
It would look fine tied up by the side of our pond! 
Mother would have something to save peelings for. 
She has often said, 'If we only had a goose!’ Now 
she can have one and she shall have it! Will you 
trade? I will give you the sheep for the goose, and 
thanks besides!” 

The man had no objection at all and so they traded. 
The peasant got the goose. He had now come close to 
the town, and the crowd on the road increased. Men 
and beasts swarmed thick. They walked on the road 
and in the ditch, right up along the edge of the toll col- 
lector’s potato patch, where a hen stood tied with a 
string lest it stray away in fright and get lost. It had 
short tail feathers, blinked with one eye, and looked very 
desirable. "Cluck, cluck!” it said. What it was think- 
ing when it said this I cannot say, but the peasant 
thought when he saw her: "She’s the finest hen I have 
ever seen; she is better than the parson’s brooder. I 
certainly wish I owned her! A hen always finds some- 
thing to eat, it can almost provide for itself! I think 


WHATEVER THE OLD MAN DOES 217 

it will be a good exchange if I trade the goose for her.” 

” Shall we trade?” he asked. 

Trade!” said the hen's owner. ”Why, that would 
not be so bad!” and so they traded. The toll collector 
got the goose and the peasant got the hen. 

He had now accomplished a good deal on that jour- 
ney to town. He was hot and tired. He felt that he 
needed a bit of brandy and a bite to eat. He had 
reached the tavern and there he wanted to enter. But 
the hostler at that moment was going out and so they 
met right in the doorway. The hostler was swinging a 
bag filled with something. 

''What have you got there?” asked the peasant. 

"Rotten apples,” replied the hostler; "a whole 
sackful for the hogs.” 

"My, but that is an awful lot! I wish mother could 
see this. Last year we had one single apple on the old 
tree by the wood shed. That apple had to be kept, and 
it stood on the cupboard till it split open. ' It is a bit of 
a luxury,' said mother. Well here she could get to see 
what luxury and abimdance is! I wish she could see 
those apples!” 

"Well, what will you give me?” asked the hostler. 

"Give? I'll give my hen in exchange.” Then he 
handed over the hen and received the apples in return. 
He entered the inn, going straight to the room where 
drinks were served, and set his sack of apples against 
the stove. There was a fire in the stove but that he 
did n't know or think about. There were many strangers 
in the room, — horse-dealers, cattle-dealers, and two Eng- 
lishmen. And they were so rich their pockets bulged 
with gold coins. They made wagers — and now listen! 


2I8 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


^‘Hiss! hiss!” What was that sound from the stove? 
The apples were beginning to roast. 

^‘What is that?” they all asked. 

They soon heard the whole story about the horse 
that was traded away for a cow and right through to the 
rotten apples. 

'‘Well, you will get it good from the old woman when 
you get home!” said the Englishmen. “There will be 
an awful racket ! ” 

“ I will get kisses and not scoldings,” said the peasant. 
“The old woman will say: ‘What the old man does is 
always right!’ ” 

“Shall we wager?” they said. “A barrel of gold 
coin, a hundred poimds to a hundred weight!” 

“A bushel full is enough!” said the peasant. “I can 
only fill the busheLwith apples and throw in myself and 
the old woman. But that is piling up the measirre!” 

“Done! Taken!” they cried; and thus the wager 
was made. 

The innkeeper’s carriage came up, the peasant and 
the strangers got in, and the rotten apples were lifted up, 
too; and then they journeyed to the peasant’s house. 

“Good evening, old woman!” 

“Thank you, old man!” 

“I have made the trade!” 

“Yes, you know how!” said the woman, and then 
she put her arms roimd him and forgot both the sack 
and the strangers. 

“I traded the horse for a cow!” 

“Thank heaven!” she said. “We shall have plenty 
of milk and butter and cheese on the table. That was 
a fine trade!” 


WHATEVER THE OLD MAN DOES 219 

‘'But I traded the cow away again for a sheep!” 

‘ ‘ Why, that really is still better 1 ' ’ said the wife. “You 
are always prudent and thoughtful. We have all the 
pasture necessary for a sheep. Now we can have sheep’s 
milk and cheese, and woolen stockings, yes, and woolen 
night shirts! We could n’t get that from a cow! She 
sheds her hair! You are a wonderfully thoughtful man.” 

“But I exchanged the sheep for a goose!” 

“Are we really to have roast goose this year, my dear 
old man? You always think of something to give me 
pleasure! That was lovely of you! We can keep the 
goose tied and so get her still fatter before we roast her!” 

“But I traded away the goose for a hen!” said the 
man. 

“A hen! that was a fine trade,” said the woman. 
“The hen lays eggs, it hatches them; we shall have little 
chickens and soon we shall have a whole hen yard. That 
is just what I have been wishing for so much!” 

“Yes, but I traded the hen for a sack of rotten 
apples!” 

“Now I positively must kiss you!” said the woman. 
“Thank you, my own dear husband! Now I will tell 
you something. When you were gone I thought of 
making a real good meal for you; egg pancake with 
onions. I had the eggs. But I had no onions. Then 
I went over to the schoolmaster’s. There they have 
leek in their garden, I know. But the wife is so stingy ! 
I asked if I could borrow an onion. ‘Borrow?’ she said. 
‘Nothing grows in our garden, not even a rotten apple, 
and you cannot lend to me even that!’ Now I can lend 
her ten, yes, even a whole sackful! That’s a fine joke, 
old man!” and she kissed him right on the mouth. 


220 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘I like that!” said the Englishman. ** Always down- 
hill and yet always contented! It’s worth the money!” 
And they paid a bushel of gold coins to the peasant who 
had not been scolded, but kissed. 

It certainly always pays when the wife sees and 
declares that her old man is wise and always does the 
right thing. 

There is the story! I heard it as a child and now you, 
too, have heard it, and know that whatever the old man 
does is always the right thing to do. 


THE DARNING NEEDLE 


There was once a Darning Needle, who believed 
herself to be as fine and polished as a sewing needle. 

''Pay careful attention there to what you are hold- 
ing!” said the Darning Needle to the Fingers that picked 
her up. " Do not drop me! If I should fall on the floor 
I might never be found again, I am so very fine!” 

"There is a limit!” said the Fingers, and then they 
squeezed her rotmd the waist. 

"See, I am accompanied by a retinue!” said the 
Darning Needle, drawing a long thread after her. There 
was no knot in the thread, however. 

The Fingers directed the needle straight against the 
cook’s slipper at a place where the upper leather had 
cracked. The crack was now to be sewed up, you see. 

"This is mean work!” said the Darning Needle. 
"I shall never get through this! I am breaking! I am 
breaking!” And then she broke. 

"Did I not say so?” asked the Darning Needle. "I 
am too fine!” 

"She is good for nothing now,” was the opinion of the 
Fingers. But the cook dripped lacquer on the end from 
which the eye of the Darning Needle had been broken 
and then stuck the pin in her scarf. 

"See, now I am a breast-pin!” said the Darning 
Needle. "I knew well enough that I should come to 
honor. When one is something, one always gets to be 
something!” 

Then she laughed inwardly — one can never see a 
Darning Needle laugh outwardly. There she sat as 


221 


222 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


proudly as if she were riding in a coach and looking 
round her on all sides. 

‘'May I have the honor to ask if you are made of 
gold?” she asked of the pin who was her neighbor. 
“You have a lovely appearance and quite a head of your 
own, though it is very small! You must take pains to 
make it grow, for we cannot all be lacquered on the end 1 ” 
With that the Darning Needle drew herself up so proudly 
that she came out of the scarf and fell down into the 
sink, just as the cook was rinsing the clothes. 

“Now we are off on a journey!” said the Darning 
Needle. “If only I don’t get lost!” 

Now, that is just what happened. 

“I am too fine for this world!” she said, as she sat 
in the gutter. “But I am aware of what I am, and that 
is always a little satisfaction!” 

So the Darning Needle held herself upright and did 
not lose her good humor. 

All kinds of things sailed by above it, sticks, straws, 
and bits of newspapers. 

“See how they sail along!” said the Darning Needle. 
“They don’t know what is sticking below them! I am 
sticking! Here I sit! See, there goes a stick. He 
thinks of nothing in the world but ‘Stick,' and that is 
what he is himself. There floats a straw. See how it 
turns, see how it whirls ! Do not think so much of your- 
self, you might bump yourself against the paving stones ! 
There floats a newspaper! What is in it is all forgotten, 
and yet see how it spreads itself ! I sit patient and quiet ! 
I know what I am, and that I shall continue to be!” 

One day something glittered very brightly close by 
and the Darning Needle immediately thought it was a 


THE DARNING NEEDLE 


223 


diamond. It was, however, a bit of a broken bottle, 
and as it glittered, the Darning Needle spoke to it and 
introduced herself as a breast-pin! 

^^You are a diamond, are you not?” 

”Yes, I am something of the sort.” 

And then each thought the other must be something 
very precious indeed. Then they talked to each other 
about how arrogant and conceited the world was. 

'‘Yes, I used to live in a box in a yoimg lady's room,” 
said the Darning Needle, "and the young lady was a 
cook. She had five fingers on each hand, and anything 
so conceited as those five fingers I have never known. 
And yet the only reason for their existence was to hold 
me, to take me out of my box, and to lay me back in 
my box!” 

"Did they shine in any way?” asked the bit of 
Broken Bottle. 

"Shine!” said the Darning Needle. "No, they were 
very dull, and so conceited! They were five brothers, 
all born 'Fingers.' They held themselves upright, one 
against -the other, though they were of different lengths. 
The outside one, Thumbkin, was short and fat. He 
marched out of line, and besides, he had but one joint 
in his back. He could bow only once, but he said that 
if he were chopped off a person, the entire man would be 
ruined for military service. Pointer, the second finger, 
also known as 'Lick Dish,' got into the sweet and the 
sour, pointed at the stm and the moon, and was the one 
that pressed down on the pen when the Fingers wrote. 
Longman looked over the heads of all the others. Ring- 
man went about with a gold ring about his stomach, 
and Little Man did nothing at all, and that was what he 


224 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


was proud of. Bragging and boasting it was, and nothing 
but bragging and boasting; and then I went into the 
wash!” 

''And now here we sit and glitter!” said the glass 
fragment. At that moment more water poured into the 
gutter. It overflowed in every direction and carried the 
broken glass away with it. 

" See, now, he has had a promotion ! ” said the Darning 
Needle. "I remain sitting. I am too fine, but that is 
my pride, and my pride is worthy of respect!” And 
then she sat up proudly, and many thoughts came to her. 

"I could almost believe that I am bom of a simbeam, 
so fine am I! Have I not noticed that the sun always 
seems to seek me imder the water? Alas, I am so fine 
that my mother cannot And me. If I had my old eye 
which broke, I believe I could cry, though of course that 
wouldn’t do; it is not refined to cry!” 

One day two street boys came gmbbing and digging 
in the gutter. There they found old nails, pennies, 
and other things of that sort. It was very dirty play, 
but they took great delight in it. 

"Ouch!” said one of them. He had pricked himself 
on the Darning Needle. "What kind of a fellow is 
that!” 

"I am no fellow, I am a young lady!” said the Darn- 
ing Needle. But no one heard it. It had lost its lacquer 
and had become black. But black gives a more slender 
appearance, and thereupon it believed that it was finer 
than ever. 

"There comes an eggshell, sailing!” said the boys. 
Then they stuck the Darning Needle into the shell. 

"White walls and black myself!” said the Darning 


THE DARNING NEEDLE 


225 


Needle. ^^That is becoming! Now I can be seen! I 
hope I won’t get seasick, for then I should be all 
broken up!” But it did not get seasick, and it was 
not broken up. 

“It is a good preventive for seasiclmess to have a 
steel stomach, and then to remember always that one 
is a little more than a human being ! Now my seasickness 
is gone! The finer one is the more one can bear.” 

“Crunch!” went the eggshell, as a loaded wagon 
rolled over it. 

“Oh, how it squeezes!” said the Darning Needle. 
“ Now I shall be seasick! I shall break! I shall break! ” 

But it did not break, though a whole wagon load 
went over it, for it lay lengthwise. And there let it lie! 


15 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


I. A BEGINNING 

At a reception in one of the houses in a certain street 
in Copenhagen not far from King’s Newmarket, was 
once gathered a very large company. (A person must 
have a house full of company once in a while; for then 
it is over with, and one can expect invitations in return.) 

Half the company were already seated at the card 
tables. The other half waited for what should be the 
result of the hostess’ annoimcement : ''Now we must 
think up something to do!” 

Thus far had things progressed. The conversation 
moved as it does when there is no settled topic. Among 
other things the talk tinned upon the period of the Middle 
Ages. A few considered that period far better than our 
own, and one of the guests — Coimcilor Knap — de- 
fended this view so vigorously that the hostess imme- 
diately sided with him; Both argued very strongly 
against an author who had just written a treatise com- 
paring ancient and modern times. The writer thought 
our age preferable. The Councilor believed the times 
of King Hans to be the best and happiest of all. 

While this talk is going on pro and con — with 
nothing to interrupt it but the arrival of the newspaper, 
which had nothing in it worth reading — we shall see 
what was happening in the ante-room, where the guests’ 
coats, canes, umbrellas, and overshoes had been left. 

In the ante-room sat two maids, one young and the 
other old. At first glance they seemed to be servants 
waiting to attend their masters and mistresses on the 


226 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


227 


way home after the reception. But, on close scrutiny, 
it was clear that they were not ordinary servant girls. 
Their hands were too fine, their attitude and movements 
too graceful. Moreover, their clothes had a decidedly 
individual cut. 

They were fairies. The yotmger, though of course 
not Fortime herself, was one of her lady’s maid’s chamber- 
maids, they who bring around the lesser gifts of Fortime. 
The older fairy looked so extremely serious that one 
recognized her at once as Sorrow. She always goes on 
her errands herself, for then she knows they will be well 
performed. 

They were telling each other where they had been 
that day. She was who chambermaid to Fortune’s 
lady’s maid, had, so far, performed only a few imimpor- 
tant errands. She had saved a new hat from being 
ruined in a sudden shower, had secured a passing recog- 
nition on the street for an honest man from a distin- 
guished nobody — and other little things like that. 
But what she still had left to do was something quite 
out of the ordinary. 

“I must inform you,” she said, “that it is my birth- 
day to-day, and in honor of this a pair of overshoes has 
been intrusted to me to bring to human beings. These 
overshoes have this peculiar property! Everyone who 
puts them on finds himself instantly in the time or place 
where he wishes most to be. Every wish with regard 
to time and place is immediately fulfilled and thus at 
last can man be happy here below!” 

“Believe that if you will!” said Sorrow. “He will 
become very imhappy, indeed, and will bless the moment 
he gets rid of the overshoes!” 


228 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


“You are all wrong!” said the other. “I am going 
to set them right here by the door. Someone will take 
them by mistake and become the fortunate one!” 

Now you know what conversation went on in the 
ante-chamber, 

II. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COUNCILOR 

It was late. Coimcilor Knap, his thoughts deep in 
King Hans’ time, wanted to go home. Now fate had 
willed it that he should get Fortime’s Overshoes instead 
of his own, and out he stepped into the street with them. 
But by the magic power of the overshoes he had been 
put back to the time of King Hans, and for that reason 
he now set his foot into the mud and mire of an impaved 
street, for in those days paving was still unknown. 

“Why, how terribly muddy and dirty it is here!” 
said the Councilor. “The whole walk is gone and all 
the street lamps are out!” 

The moon was not yet high enough in the sky to give 
much light. The air was rather thick besides, and the 
surroundings were swallowed up in the darkness. At 
the nearest comer a lamp himg before an image of the 
Madonna, but the light might almost as well not have 
been there at all for all the illumination it gave. The 
Councilor noticed it only when he was standing directly 
beneath it. His eyes fell on the painted image of the 
Mother and Child. 

“This must be an art shop,” he thought, “where they 
have forgotten to take down the sign for the night.” 

A few people passed by him, dressed in the costume 
of times gone by. 

“What a strange appearance they have! They 


FORTUNE'S OVERSHOES 


229 

must have come from a masquerade ball!" said the 
Councilor to himself. 

Suddenly there was a sotmd of fife and drum, and 
bright lights appeared. The Cotmcilor stood still and 
watched a strange procession go by. First of all marched 
a whole troop of drummers, who handled their drum- 
sticks with much dexterity. After them came men-at- 
arms, bearing long-bows and harquebuses. The most 
distinguished man in the procession seemed to be of 
clerical rank. Astonished, the Councilor asked the mean- 
ing of such a procession, and who the man might be. 

"That is the Bishop of Zealand," was the answer. 

"What in the world is the Bishop thinking of?" 
sighed the Coimcilor. He shook his head, refusing to 
believe that it could possibly be the Bishop. Pondering 
deeply what he had seen, and looking neither to right 
nor left, the Councilor walked through East Street and 
over Highbridge Square. The bridge leading to the 
palace square was not to be found. He could make out 
a swampy beach and at last stumbled upon two men, 
who had a boat tied up at the shore. 

"Does the gentleman wish to be taken over to the 
Bottoms?" they asked. 

"Over to the Bottoms?" said the Councilor, who, you 
see, did not know that he was living in a by-gone period. 
" I want to go to Christianshaven to Little Turf Street!" 

The fellows looked at him. 

"Will you just tell me where that bridge is?" he said. 
"It is shameful that no lamps are lighted, and it is as 
muddy and dirty as if a person were walking in a marsh ! " 

The longer he talked with the boatmen, the less could 
he understand their speech. 


230 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


don’t imderstand your Bornholm^ dialect,” he 
said, finally angry, and turning his back he walked off. 

But he could not find the bridge, and there was neither 
river wall nor fence ! ” It is scandalous how things look ! ’ ’ 
he said. Never had he thought his own times so miser- 
able as on that evening. 

‘ ‘ I believe I will take a cab ! ” he thought. But where 
were the cabs? None were to be seen. 

'‘I will have to go back to King’s Newmarket, where 
some must surely be standing, or else I will never get to 
Christianshaven. ’ ’ 

He went back to East Street and was almost through 
it when the clouds parted and the moon shone brightly. 

“Good gracious, what in the world have they been 
putting up here!” he said as he perceived the East gate 
which in those days stood at the end of East Street. 

He finally foimd a little passage-way, and through 
this he came out on what is now Newmarket but which 
was then a great meadow. A few bushes stuck out 
here and there from the level of the meadow, and straight 
across it flowed a broad canal or stream of some kind. 
Some miserable wooden sheds for the Dutch skippers 
lay on the opposite shore. 

“Either I am seeing a mirage, or else I am dnmkl” 
groaned the Justice. “What can this be! Wliat in the 
world is this?” 

c 

He turned back in the firm belief that he was ill. 
When he was again in the street he looked a little closer 
at the houses, and discovered that most of them were 
built of laths and that many had only thatched roofs. 

1 An island possession to the east of Denmark where the language spoken is 
a peculiar dialect very unlike the Danish language. 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


231 


‘‘No, I am not at all well!” he sighed. “And yet I 
drank just one glass of punch! It was very wrong to 
give us ptmch and warm salmon! I cannot stand it! 
I shall certainly tell our hostess about it! .Ought I go 
back and let them know how I feel? But that would be 
embarrassing! Besides, I wonder if they are still up!” 

He looked for the place, but it was not to be found. 

“This is terrible! I don’t recognize East Street! 
There is not a single store! Old, miserable shacks are 
all I see, as if I were in Roskilde or Ringsted! Oh, I am 
ill! This is not a time to hold back for manners’ sake! 
But where in the world is the agent’s house? It does n’t 
look like the same place! But there are people up there 
anyway; oh! I am surely ill!” 

He now came to a half-open door, where the light 
shone through the opening. It was one of the inns of 
that time, a kind of alehouse. The room had the appear- 
ance of a Dutch tavern! A number of people, including 
sailors, citizens, and a couple of scholars, sat in lively 
discussion over their mugs. They paid little attention 
to the stranger as he stepped in. 

“Beg pardon,” said the Councilor to the proprie- 
tress, who came toward him, “I feel very ill! Will you 
call a cab to take me to Christianshaven?” 

The woman looked at him and shook her head. 
Then she addressed him in German. The Councilor 
then supposed that she could not speak Danish and so 
repeated his request in German. This, and his dress, 
convinced the woman that he was a foreigner. That 
he felt ill, she soon understood and so she gave him a 
mug of water. It certainly tasted brackish. It had 
been brought from the well outside. 


232 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


The Councilor leaned his head on his hand, drew a 
deep breath, and wondered at all the strange things 
about him. 

'' Is that this evening’s issue of ‘ The Day ’? ” he asked, 
just for the sake of saying something, as he saw the 
woman take up a large sheet of paper. 

She did not imderstand what he meant, but she 
handed the paper to him. There was a wood cut showing 
a strange appearance in the sky observed from the city 
of Cologne. ^‘That is very old!” said the Councilor, 
and he was much surprised and delighted at discovering 
such an old thing. '‘Where in the world did you run 
on to that rare paper? It is very interesting, although 
the whole thing is imagination! Such appearances in 
the sky are explained as the Northern Lights. It is 
quite probable that they are caused by electricity!” 
Those who sat nearest and heard what he said looked 
at him wonderingly, and one of them stood up, took off his 
hat respectfully, and said with the most serious expres- 
sion: “Sir, you must certainly be a very learned man.” 

“Oh, no!” answered the Coimcilor. “I can talk 
about this and that, things that everybody must and 
ought to know.” 

'' Modestia is a beautiful virtue to possess,” said the 
man. “Moreover, I must say to your words, ^mihi secus 
videtur' Yet here I will gladly suspend my judicium!'' 

“May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of 
speaking?” asked the Coimcilor. 

“I am Baccalaureate in the Holy Writ!” answered 
the man. 

This reply was enough for the Councilor. The title 
corresponded with the costiune. “This must certainly 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


233 

be an old country schoolmaster,” he thought, “a queer 
fellow, such as one still finds up in Jutland.” 

'‘This is not a locus docendi,'' began the man, "but 
I pray you to take the trouble to speak! You are doubt- 
less widely read in the ancients!” 

"Oh, yes, indeed!” answered the Councilor. "I am 
fond of reading old, useful writings. But I also like the 
newer ones, excepting only the 'Every-Day Stories’; 
we have enough of them in reality!” 

"Every-Day Stories?” asked the Baccalameate. 

"Yes, I mean the new novels.” 

"Oh,” said the man with a smile; "still they are 
rather clever and they are much read at Court. The 
King likes them, especially the tale about Iffven and 
Gaudian which deals with King Arthur and his Knights 
of the Round Table. He has jested about it with his 
noble lords!” 

"That is one I have not read!” said the Coimcilor. 
"It must be a very new one published by Heiberg!” 

" No,” answered the man. “It is not by Heiberg, but 
by Godfrey von Gehmen!” 

"Indeed! Is he the author?” asked the Councilor. 
" That is a very old name ! Why, that is the first printer 
who appeared in Denmark.” 

"Yes, he is our first printer,” replied the man. 

Thus the talk progressed smoothly enough. One 
of the good burghers now spoke about the pestilence 
that had raged a few years past, meaning the one in 
1484. The Councilor supposed that he was talking 
about the recent cholera epidemic, and thus the discussion 
went on nicely. The Freebooters’ War in 1490 was so 
recent that it could not escape mention. The English 


234 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


freebooter had taken ships at the very wharves, they 
said. And the Councilor who had investigated and who 
knew intimately the events of i8oi, took part strongly 
in the talk against the English. 

The rest of the conversation, on the other hand, did 
not run so smoothly. Every moment there was a con- 
tradiction. To the Councilor the good Baccalaiu-eate 
seemed altogether too ignorant of things, and to the Bac- 
calaureate, the Councilor’s simplest statements sotmded 
altogether too unreasonable and fantastic. They looked 
at each other, and when it got too bad, the Baccalaureate 
spoke in Latin, in the belief that he would be better im- 
derstood. But it was of no use. 

'‘How are you feeling now?” asked the hostess, 
pulling at his coat sleeve to attract his attention. Then 
his recollection came back, for while he talked he had 
forgotten completely all that had happened beforehand. 

‘‘Where am I?” he asked, and his head felt dizzy 
when he thought of it. 

‘‘We’ll drink claret! Mead and Bremen beer!” 
cried one of the guests, ‘‘and you shall drink with us!” 

Two girls then came in. One of them wore a cap of 
two colors. They filled the glasses and curtsied to the 
guests. An icy shiver ran down the Coimcilor’s back. 

‘‘What in the world is this! What is this!” he cried. 
But he had to drink with them. They took entire 
possession of the good man. He was in complete despair, 
and when one of them said he was drunk, he had not 
the least doubt that the fellow was right. All he asked 
was that they would get him a droshky^; and then they 
thought he was talking Russian. 

1 The Russian word drozhki is commonly used in Denmark for cab or carriage. 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


235 


Never had he been in such rough and vulgar company. 
One would think the coiuitry had returned to heathen- 
dom, was his silent comment. Just then the idea came 
to him to get under the table, crawl to the door, and 
then wait for a chance to slip out. But when he reached 
^the exit, the others discovered his intention, seized him 
by the legs, and then, to his great good fortune, the 
Overshoes came off — and with them, the whole en- 
chantment. 

The Councilor saw quite plainly in front of him a 
bright lamp burning, and behind it was a large residence. 
He recognized it, as well as the neighboring residences. 
It was East Street as we all know it. He lay with his 
feet toward a gate, and directly opposite sat the night 
watchman, asleep. 

'‘Good Heavens, have I been lying here in the street 
dreaming!” he said. “Yes, this is East Street! How 
splendidly lighted it is and cheerful! It is terrible how 
that glass of punch must have affected me!” 

Two minutes later he sat in a cab which took him to 
Christianshaven! He thought of the anxiety and despair 
he had experienced, and praised from the bottom of his 
heart his own time, which with all the shortcomings 
was nevertheless far better than that from which he 
had just come. And that was quite sensible of the 
Cotmcilor. 

III. THE watchman’s ADVENTURES 

“Why, there is a pair of overshoes,” said the Watch- 
man. “They must belong to the Lieutenant, who lives 
up yonder. They are standing right at the door!” 

The honest man would gladly have rung the bell and 


236 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


delivered them, for lights were burning upstairs; but he 
did not like to wake the other people in the house. 

*‘It must be pleasant to have on a pair of such warm 
things,” he said; ''the leather is so soft and nice.” He 
put them on his feet and they fitted very well. 

"What a queer world this is!” he reflected. "Now 
there is the Lieutenant ; he might go to bed and be com- 
fortable; but does he do it? No; up and down the floor 
he trips! He is a lucky man! He has neither wife nor 
little ones! Every evening he is at a party. I wish 
I were in his place, then I certainly should be a happy 
man!” 

The moment he uttered the wish the Overshoes 
did their work, and the Watchman was in the Lieutenant’s 
place, mind and body. There he stood upstairs in the 
Lieutenant’s room, his fingers holding a little pink sheet 
of paper, upon which was a poem — a poem by Mr. 
Lieutenant himself. For what man has not once in 
his life had a poetic moment, when just to write down 
one’s thoughts brings the verses! 

People write such verses when they are in love, but 
a prudent man does not have them printed. Lieutenant, 
love, and necessity, that is a triangle, or, as good — the 
half of Fortime’s broken die. The Lieutenant felt this 
way about it, too, and he laid his head on the window 
sill and sighed very deeply. 

"The poor Watchman out on the street is far happier 
than I! He does not know what I call longing! He 
has a home, a wife and children, who weep when he 
grieves, and rejoice when he rejoices! Oh, I should be 
happier than I am, could I change into him completely, 
for he is happier than I!” 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


237 


At that moment the Watchman was again the Watch- 
man, for it was because of the Overshoes that he had 
become Lieutenant. But, as we have seen, he then felt 
still less satisfied and would, nevertheless rather be 
what he really was. 

So the Watchman was again watchman. 

“That was an ugly dream!” he said, “but rather 
funny, anyhow. I thought I was the Lieutenant up 
yonder and that it wasn’t anything pleasant by any 
means. I missed mother and the little ones, who are 
ready to stifie me with kisses.” 

He began to nod again. He kept thinking of the 
dream, and still wore the Overshoes. A shooting star 
gleamed across the sky. 

“There, that’s gone!” he said. “There are enough, 
anyway. I certainly should like to see those things a 
little closer, especially the moon, for that would n’t slip 
away between one’s fingers. When we die, says the 
student for whom my wife does the washing, we fiy from 
one star to another. That is a lie, but it would be a nice 
thing if it were true. I wish I could make a little jump 
up yonder; then my body could lie here on the stair 
for all I care!” 

You see there are certain things in this world which 
one must be very cautious about uttering, but still more 
cautious ought one to be when wearing Fortune’s Over- 
shoes. Now listen to what happened to the Watchman. 

As far as we human beings are concerned, we nearly 
all know the speed of travel by steam. We have tried 
it either on the railroad or on a ship on the ocean. But 
that speed is just like the movements of a snail compared 
with the speed with which light travels. It travels 


238 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


nineteen million times faster than the best runner can 
go; and yet electricity is still faster. Death is an electric 
shock we receive in our hearts. On the wings of elec- 
tricity the liberated soul flies away. The light of the 
sim requires eight minutes and some seconds for a jomney 
of over twenty million miles. By electricity's fast mail 
the soul needs still fewer minutes to make the same flight. 
The space between the heavenly bodies is no larger for 
it than the space between our friend's houses in the same 
city is for us, even though these may live close together. 
However, to travel so fast we must leave our bodies 
forever here below, imless, like the Watchman, we could 
have Fortime's Overshoes on our feet. 

In a few seconds the Watchman traveled two himdred 
and forty thousand miles to the moon, which, as we know, 
consists of a much lighter material than oiu* earth, and 
is what we should consider soft as new-fallen snow. He 
foimd himself on one of the numberless mountains with 
which we are acquainted from Dr. Madler's great map 
of the moon. For that you know, of course? Within, 
the sides of the ring mountain went straight down into 
a hollow to a depth of several miles. Down there lay a 
town that had the appearance of the white of an egg in 
a glass of water; just as soft, and similar in appearance, 
with towers and cupolas and balconies, transparent and 
swaying in the thin air. Our earth himg in the air 
over the Watchman's head like a great, fiery-red ball. 

There were a great many creatures, and all of them what 
we should certainly call human beings; but their appear- 
ance was very different from ours. They had a language, 
too ; but no one would have expected that the Watchman's 
soul could imderstand it. Nevertheless, it could. 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


239 


The Watchman’s soul imderstood the language of the 
moon’s inhabitants very well. They disputed about our 
earth and doubted if it could be inhabited. The air 
must be too thick for any sensible creature to live in. 
They believed that only the moon had living beings 
upon it. It was the original sphere where the real sphere 
people dwelt. 

But let us go down again to East Street and see how 
the Watchman’s body is faring. 

Lifeless, it sat on the stair. The star-tipped staff had 
fallen out of its hand and the eyes stared up at the moon 
after the honest soul which was wandering about there. 

'‘What time is it, Watchman?” asked a passerby. 
But the Watchman answered nothing. 

Then the passerby tweaked the Watchman’s nose 
very gently, and in so doing made him lose his bal- 
ance. There the body lay at full length. Why, the 
man was dead! And the passerby who had tweaked 
the Watchman’s nose was terribly frightened. 

The Watchman was dead, and dead he was declared. 
It was reported and discussed, and in the morning the 
body was carried to the hospital. 

It might have been a nice joke on the soul if it had 
returned to seek the body in East Street and had not 
found it! In all probability it would first of all hurry 
to the police station, later to the lost and foimd office to 
examine the list of unclaimed goods, and finally to the 
hospital. But we may take comfort in the knowledge 
that the soul is at its best when it acts alone; it is the body 
that makes it stupid. 

As we have said, the body of the Watchman was taken 
to the hospital, where it was brought into the cleaning 


240 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and disinfecting room. Naturally, the first thing they 
did there was to take off the Overshoes, and then the 
soul had to come back. It took its way straight to the 
body, and in a flash the man was alive. He declared 
it had been the most terrible night of his life. Not for 
two twenty-five cent pieces would he have such sensa- 
tions again. But now it was over and done with. 

He was allowed to leave the same day, but the 
Overshoes remained at the hospital. 

IV. A VERY UNUSUAL JOURNEY 

Every citizen of Copenhagen knows what the entrance 
to Frederick’s Hospital looks like. But since a few who 
are not citizens of Copenhagen will probably read this 
story, we must give a short description of it. 

The hospital is separated from the street by a tall 
fence, whose thick iron bars are so far apart that many 
thin students are said to have squeezed themselves 
through and in this way paid their little visits outside. 
The part of the body, which was most difficult to work 
through the bars was the head. Here then, as is often 
the case in this world, the small heads were the most 
fortimate. That will be sufficient as an introduction. 

One of the young volimteer assistants, of whom it could 
be said only in a physical sense that his head was thick, 
had the watch that evening. The rain was pouring down. 
But in spite of such hindrances, the young man was 
determined to get out. He would be gone only a quarter 
of an hour; and that was not worth mentioning to the 
gatekeeper, he thought, when a man could so easily slip 
out between the iron bars. Near by lay the overshoes 
that the Watchman had forgotten to take with him. 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


241 


The thought did not for an instant occur to the Assistant 
that they were Fortune’s Overshoes. However, they 
would be very nice to wear in rainy weather; so he put 
them on. 

Now the question was, whether he could squeeze 
through the bars of the gate. He had never tried it 
before. He reached the fence and stood there. 

''How I wish I had my head outside!” he said to 
himself; and immediately, although his head was very 
large and thick, it slipped through easily and without 
mishap. Just depend upon the Overshoes! But now 
he had to get the rest of his body out, and there he stood. 

"I’m too fat!” he said. "I thought the head would 
have been the hardest to get through! I see I am not 
going to get out.” 

Then he wanted to pull his head back quickly, but 
he could not. He could move his neck without discom- 
fort, but that was all. At first he felt angry; then his 
spirits sank into his boots. 

Forttme’s Overshoes had brought him into the most 
awful situation, and, imfortimately, it did not occur to 
him to wish himself free. 

He kept trying, but could not stir from the spot. 
The rain poured down; not a person was to be seen on 
the street. The gate bell was too far away to reach. 
How in the world was he to get loose? He feared that 
he might have to stand there till morning, when they 
would send for a blacksmith to file through the iron bars. 
But it would not all be done so quickly. The whole 
boys’ school opposite would be on its legs watching him; 
the entire neighborhood would come to see him stand in 
the pillory. There would be a crowd, indeed. 

16 


242 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


^'Whew! the blood is rising to my head, and I shall 
go mad! Yes, I am going mad! Oh, if only I were loose 
again, it might pass over!” 

That, you see, is just what he should have said a little 
while sooner; for, as soon as he uttered the thought, his 
head was free. He rushed inside, quite dazed with the 
fright Fortime’s Overshoes had caused him. 

But you must not think for a moment that the whole 
thing' was over with this incident. Something still 
worse was coming. 

The night passed and also the following day, and no 
inquiry was made for the Overshoes. 

In the evening an entertainment was to take place 
in the little theater on a distant street. The theater 
was filled completely. Among the recitations was a new 
poem called Grandmother’s Spectacles.” When looking 
through these spectacles people appeared like playing 
cards and by looking at them one could tell fortunes, and 
prophesy future events. 

The poem was splendidly recited^ and received much 
applause. Among the spectators was the Assistant from 
the hospital, who seemed to have forgotten his adventure 
of the preceding evening. He was wearing the Over- 
shoes, for they had not been sent for, and as the streets 
were wet and muddy they came in very handy. 

He liked the poem very much. He kept turning the 
idea over in his mind, thinking that it would be quite nice 
to have such spectacles. Perhaps, if one used them right, 
he could look straight into other people’s hearts. That 
would be more interesting, he thought, than to foresee 
what was to happen in the coming year; for the future one 
would come to know anyway in time, but the other, never. 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


243 


^‘Now, for instance, those ladies and gentlemen in 
the first row there; could one but look into their breasts 
he would surely see in each a sort of shop! In that 
lady’s there I should certainly find a great fashion shop. 
That store over there would be found empty, but a 
good cleaning would not hurt it. Good reliable shops 
there must be also. Ah, yes!” the young man sighed, 
“I know of one. There everything is in fine shape; but 
a store clerk has already found a place there, and he is 
the most worthless thing in the shop! From some of 
the stores would come the invitation to ^Step inside!’ 
I wish I could step inside, and like a little thought go 
through their hearts!” 

That was enough for the Overshoes! The hospital 
Assistant became a thought; and then began a very 
unusual journey right through the hearts of the first row 
of spectators. The first heart he passed through was a 
lady’s. But he immediately thought he was in the Or- 
thopaedic Institute, where the doctors straighten out 
deformities. He was in the room where plaster casts 
of the deformed limbs hang on the walls. The difference 
was that at the Institute the casts are made when the 
patient comes in, but here in this lady’s heart they were 
taken and preserved when the good persons were away. 
They were casts of the faults and defects of lady friends 
that were here preserved. 

Quickly he passed into another lady’s heart, but this 
appeared to him like a great holy church. The white 
dove of innocence fluttered over the altar. How gladly 
he would have knelt there, but away he had to go, into 
the next heart. He could still hear the tones of the 
organ, however, and he felt that he had become a new 


244 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and better man, and not unworthy to enter the next sanc- 
tuary. This was a poor attic room in which lay a sick 
mother. Through the open window came God’s warm 
simshine; lovely roses nodded from the little wooden 
box on the roof, and two sky-blue birds sang joyously, 
while the sick mother prayed for blessings on her daughter. 

Now he crept on hands and feet through an overfilled 
butcher’s shop. Meat, and only meat, could he see. It 
was the heart of a respectable rich man whose name is 
certainly to be found in the directory. 

Now he found himself in the heart of this man’s wife. 
It was an old, dilapidated dove-cote. The man’s picture 
was used as a weathervane; it connected with the doors, 
which by its means opened and shut as the husband 
turned. 

Next he entered a cabinet of mirrors, like the one 
at Rosenborg Castle. These mirrors magnified every- 
thing. In the middle of the floor sat, like a Grand Lama, 
the insignificant owner of the cabinet, taking delight in 
his own greatness. 

Then he entered what seemed to be a narrow needle 
case, full of sharp needles. He thought this must cer- 
tainly be the heart of an old maid. But it was not. 
It was that of a yoimg military officer wearing several 
orders — one of those persons that people speak of as a 
man of heart and spirit. 

Quite confused, the poor Assistant emerged from the 
last heart in the row. He could not collect his thoughts. 
He believed that his overstrong imagination had run 
away with him. 

Gracious ! ” he sighed. “ I certainly have tendencies 
toward insanity! Moreover, it is extremely hot here!” 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


245 


Then he remembered the event of the preceding 
evening, how his head had stuck fast between the bars 
at the hospital. 

''That is where I got it!” he thought. "I must 
attend to this thing in time. A Russian bath would be 
good. I wish I was lying on the topmost shelf!” 

And there he lay on the topmost shelf in the vapor 
bath, but with all his clothes on, and both shoes and 
overshoes. The hot water dripped on his face from the 
ceiling. 

"Whew!” he cried and rushed down to take a plunge 
bath. The attendant uttered a loud cry at seeing a 
person fully dressed in the room! 

The hospital Assistant had, meanwhile, so much 
presence of mind that he whispered to him, "It is a 
wager!” 

But the first thing he did when he got to his own room 
was to put a big porous plaster on his neck and one down 
his back to draw out his madness. 

Next morning he had a very sore back. That was 
what he got out of Fortune’s Overshoes. 

V. THE COPYING CLERK’s TRANSFORMATION 

Meanwhile, the Watchman, whom we, of course, 
have not forgotten, happened to be reminded of the 
overshoes which he had found and taken with him to the 
hospital. He went to the hospital and brought them 
away with him, but as neither the Lieutenant nor any 
one else in the street would claim them, they were sent 
to the police station. 

"They look just like my overshoes!” said one of the 
copying clerks, as he looked at the unclaimed goloshes 


246 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


and placed them side by side with his own. ‘‘It would 
take a shoemaker’s eye to tell them apart!’' 

Mr. Copying Clerk! ” said an officer who had stepped 
in with some papers. 

The Copying Clerk turned, talked with the man, 
and when he again looked at the overshoes he was in 
great doubt as to whether it was the pair to the left or 
the pair to the right that belonged to him. 

'‘It must be the ones that are wet ! ”..he thought. But 
he was wrong there, for those were Fortune’s. But why 
should not the police sometimes make mistakes! 

He put on the Overshoes and stuck some papers, 
to be read through and copied at home, in his pocket 
and under his arm. It happened to be forenoon of a 
Simday, and fine weather. He thought a trip to Fred- 
ericksberg would be great fim. And to Fredericksberg 
he went. 

No one could have been a quieter, more industrious 
man than this yoimg Copying Clerk, and we would not 
for the world deprive him of that little pleasure trip. 
It would certainly do him a great deal of good after so 
much sitting. At first he walked along without thinking 
of anything in particular, and for that reason Fortime’s 
Overshoes had no opportunity to show their magic power. 

In the avenue he met an acquaintance, a yotmg poet, 
who told him that he was going to start next day on his 
summer outing. 

‘ ‘ What ! Are you off again ! ’ ’ said the Copying Clerk. 
“You certainly are a free and happy man. You can 
fly wherever you please, while the rest of us are chained 
by the leg!” 

“But the chain is fastened to the bread tree! ” laughed 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


247 

the Poet. ‘‘You do not need to think of to-morrow; and 
when you get old you get a pension!” 

“But you are better off, anyway!” said the Copying 
Clerk; “it must be a pleasure to sit and write poetry! 
All the world tells you nice agreeable things, and, more- 
over, you are your own master! You ought to try 
sitting in the courtroom and working with the trivial 
matters that come up there!” 

The Poet shook his head, and the Copying Clerk 
shook his head. Each stuck to his opinion, and so they 
parted. 

“They are a race by themselves, those poets!” said 
the Copying Clerk. “I should like to try to be a poet, 
myself. I am sure that I would not write such mournful 
verses as the others do! It is just the right kind of 
a spring day for a poet! The air is so imusually clear, 
the clouds so beautiful, and there is such a fragrance 
from leaves and grass! Yes, for many years I have 
not felt as I do at this moment.” 

We already perceive that he had become a poet. 
Of course the change was not particularly apparent to 
the sight, for it is a foolish notion to think that a poet 
must look different from other people. Among the 
latter there are natures far more poetic than many a 
famous poet’s. The poet has a better spiritual memory; 
that is the only difference. He can remember the idea 
and the feeling clearly and plainly imtil they have been 
put into words; this the others cannot do. To change 
from a commonplace being to a gifted one is certainly 
a transformation. But that was what the Copying 
Clerk had done. 

“That delightful fragrance!” he said. “How it 


248 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


reminds me of the violets at Aimt Lona’s, when I was a 
little boy! Oh, how often I have thought of it! The 
good, old girl! She lived there back of the Exchange. 
She always had a twig or a couple of green shoots in 
water, no matter how severe the winter. The violets 
gave out their fragrance while I put hot copper coins 
on the frozen window pane and made peep-holes. 
Through the holes I could see outside, in the canal, 
ships frozen fast, deserted by the entire crew. A scream- 
ing crow was the only living creature aboard. Then 
spring breezes came, and there was a busy time. Amid 
singing and loud hurrahs the ice was sawed away. The 
ships were tarred and rigged, and then — away they 
sailed to foreign lands. Meanwhile, I remain here, in 
the office of the police station; and here I must always 
stay, and see the others take passports to travel abroad. 
That is my lot! Oh, yes!” he sighed deeply. Then he 
suddenly stood still. 

Good heavens, what is the matter with me! I have 
never felt this way before, or had such thoughts! It 
must be the spring air! It is both disquieting and 
pleasant!” 

He put his hand in his pocket for his papers. ‘‘ These 
will give me other things to think about!” he said, letting 
his eyes travel over the first sheet. 

''Lady Sigbrith, Original Tragedy in Five A.cts,” 
was what he read. "What is this! and it is in my own 
handwriting. Have I written a tragedy? ' The Intrigue 
on the Promenade; or The Day of Penance, a Farce,’” 
he read. "But where did I get that? Some one must 
have put it into my pocket. Here is a letter.” 

The letter was from the theatrical manager. The 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


249 

plays were rejected, and the letter itself was not at all 
politely worded. 

'‘Hm! hm!” said the Copying Clerk, seating himself 
on a bench. His thoughts were vivid, his heart so 
impressionable. Without thinking, he seized one of the 
flowers nearest him. It was a simple little daisy. It 
told him all about itself in a moment — more than a 
botanist could tell in many lectures. It told the myth 
about its birth; it told about the power of the sun, 
which made it spread out its delicate petals, causing 
them to yield their fragrance. This set him thinking of 
life’s struggles, which in the same way awaken feelings 
in our breasts. Air and Light were the flower’s suitors, 
but Light was the favored one. The flower bent itself 
toward the Light, and when the Light disappeared, it 
rolled up its delicate leaves and slept in the Air’s embrace, 
is the light that perfects me!” said the flower. 

'‘But it is the air that you breathe!” whispered the 
voice of the poet. 

Close by stood a boy, striking with a stick at the mud 
in a ditch. The drops of water spurted up among the 
green branches, and the Copying Clerk thought of the 
millions of invisible creatures which were cast in the air 
to a height that, according to their size, was to them as 
it would be for us to be whirled high up over the clouds. 

As the Copying Clerk thought of these things and of 
all the changes that had come over him, he smiled. “I 
am asleep and dreaming! How remarkable it really is! 
How realistically one may dream and still know that it 
is only a dream. If only I could remember it to-morrow 
when I awake! I seem to be tmusually fit just now! I 
have a clear perception of everything, I feel so wide 


250 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


awake; but I am sure tnat wnen, to-morrow, I recall 
any part of it, it will seem nothing but nonsense. I have 
tried it before. All the wise and splendid things we hear 
and say in our dreams are like the gold of the elves. 
When we get it, it is rich and beautiful, but seen by day- 
light, it is nothing but stones and withered leaves. 

'‘Ah, me!” he sighed, very sorrowfully, as he looked 
at the songbirds hopping contentedly from bough to 
bough, “they are much better off than I! To fly — that 
is a delightful art. Happy the one who is born with it! 
If I could change to something, it certainly would be to 
a little lark like that!” 

At that moment coat tails and sleeves grew together 
into wings; clothes turned to feathers; and Overshoes 
became claws. The Copying Clerk felt it very plainly 
and laughed. 

“There now, I can clearly see that I am dreaming! 
But so foolishly I have never dreamed before!” And 
up he flew among the green branches and sang. But 
there was no poetry in the song, for the poet nature was 
gone. The Overshoes, like those who do anything well, 
could do only one thing at a time. The Copying Clerk 
had wanted to be a poet, and he had become a poet. 
Just now he had wanted to be a little bird, and he had 
been changed into a little bird, but, in becoming a bird, 
his poetic nature disappeared. 

“This is very good,” he said. “During the day I 
sit at the police office, busy with the most weighty 
transactions, and at night I dream that I am flying about 
like a lark in the Fredericksberg Gardens. A regular 
popular comedy could be written about it!” 

Then he flew down on the grass, turned his head on 






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FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


251 


all sides, and pecked with his bill at the bending blades 
of grass, which, in comparison with his present size, 
seemed as large as a branch of the palm trees of Northern 
Africa. 

The next moment all became black as night aroimd 
him. Something which seemed to him of enormous 
size had been thrown down over him. It was a large 
cap, which a boy from the sailors’ quarters had dropped 
over the bird. A hand came in and seized the Copying 
Clerk around his back and wings so hard that he squeaked. 

In his first fright he shouted loudly, '‘You impudent 
whelp! I am the Copying Clerk at the police head- 
quarters!” But it sotmded to the boy like “Peep, peep, 
peep!” He tapped the bird’s beak and walked away 
with him. 

In the avenue he met two schoolboys of the upper 
class, that is, regarded in a social sense, for in mind they 
ranked among the lowest in the school. They bought 
the bird for eight pennies, and thus the Copying Clerk 
got into the home of a family on a fashionable street in 
Copenhagen. 

“It is a good thing I am dreaming!” said the Copying 
Clerk, “otherwise I should certainly be very angry! 
First a poet, now a lark! It must have been the poet 
nature that got me over into this little creatiure! This 
is miserable, especially when one falls into the clutches 
of a couple of boys. I should like to know how this 
thing is going to turn out!” 

The boys carried him into a very elegantly furnisned 
room. A fat, smiling woman received them, but she 
was not at all pleased that the common field bird, as she 
called the lark, should come in, too, though she would 


252 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


permit it for that day. They wotild have to put it into 
the empty cage that stood by the window! 

'‘Perhaps Polly will be pleased,” she added, and 
smiled at a large green parrot swinging proudly in his 
ring in a splendid brass cage. 

"It is Polly’s birthday,” she said in her simple 
foolishness, "and so the little field bird wants to 
congratulate!” 

Polly answered not a word, but kept swinging grandly, 
back and forth. But a pretty canary bird that had 
been brought from its fragrant native land the preceding 
summer, began to sing loudly. 

"Screamer!” said the woman, throwing a white 
handkerchief over the cage. 

" Peep ! peep ! ” sighed the Canary, "that was a terrible 
snowstorm!” and with that sigh remained silent. 

The Copying Clerk or, as the woman said, the field 
bird, was put into a little cage close by the canary and 
not far from the parrot. The only human utterance 
Polly could stutter forth, one which often sounded very 
comical, was, "Come, now, let us be human!” Every- 
thing else it screamed out was just as unintelligible as the 
canary’s twittering; but the Copying Clerk, who was now 
a bird himself, understood his comrades perfectly. 

"I flew about imder the green palm branches and the 
blossoming almond tree!” sang the Canary. "I flew 
with my brothers and sisters over the glorious flowers 
and over the crystal sea where plants nodded in the 
depths. I saw many beautiful parrots, too, who told 
the funniest stories, many of them, and very long ones.” 

"They were wild birds,” replied the Parrot. "They 
had no raising. Come, now, let us be htiman! Why do 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


253 


you not laugh? If the lady and all the visitors can 
laugh at it, you can, too. It is a great deficiency to be 
without a sense of humor. Come, now, let us be human ! ’ ’ 

'‘Oh, do you remember the beautiful girls that 
danced in the pavilion near the blossoming trees? Do 
you remember the sweet fruits, and the cooling juices 
in the wild herbs?” 

“Oh, yes!” said the Parrot; “but here I am much 
better off! I get good food and am treated as one of 
the family; I know I am considered a smart fellow, and 
more I do not ask. Come, now let us be human! You 
are a poet-bird, as they call it. I have substantial 
talents and wit. You have a certain genius, but no 
prudence; you lose yourself in those high notes and 
then they cover you up. They don’t treat me that 
way, for I have cost them more ! I can make an impres- 
sion with my beak and say bright and witty things! 
Come, now, let us be human!” 

“Oh, my warm, fiowering, native land!” said the 
Canary. “I will sing of your dark green trees, of the 
silent inlets of the sea where the branches kiss the clear 
surface of the water. I will sing of the joy of my dear 
brothers and sisters hashing to and fro among the fiowers 
of the desert!” 

“Pray leave off those mournful times!” complained 
the Parrot. “Say something a person can laugh at! 
Laughter is the mark of the highest intellect! Can a 
dog or a horse laugh! No, they can weep, but not 
laugh; that is vouchsafed to human beings alone. Ho, 
ho, ho!” laughed Polly boy, and added his witty “Come, 
now, let us be human!” 

“Little gray bird,” said the Canary, “you have also 


254 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


been made a prisoner! It must be cold in your northern 
forests, but then, freedom is there. Fly out! They 
have forgotten to close the door of your cage. The 
upper window is open. Fly, fly away!” 

In a twinkling the Copying Clerk was out of the 
cage. At that moment the half-open door leading to 
the next room creaked on its hinges, and the house cat, 
lithe, with green, shining eyes, stole into the room and 
made chase after him. The canary fluttered in the cage, 
the parrot beat with his wings and cried, “Come, now, 
let us be human!” 

The Copying Clerk was in mortal terror and flew 
away through the window, over the houses and streets. 
At last he had to rest a little. 

The house opposite had something homelike about 
it. A window stood open and he flew in. It was his 
own room. He perched on the table. 

“Come, now, let us be human!” he said, without 
himself thinking what he was saying. He had involun- 
tarily imitated the parrot, and at that same moment he 
was the Copying Clerk. But he was sitting on the table. 

“Good heavens!” he said. “How did I get up here 
and fall asleep like this? That was a restless dream I 
had, too. The whole thing was fearful bosh!” 

VI. WHAT THE OVERSHOES BROUGHT ABOUT 
THAT WAS GOOD 

The day after, in the early morning, while the Copying 
Clerk was still lying in bed, someone knocked at his door. 
It was his neighbor on the same floor, a student who was 
studying to be a preacher. 

“Lend me yotu: overshoes,” he said; “the grass is wet 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


255 

in the garden, but the sun is shining beautifully and I 
should like to smoke my pipe down there.” 

He put on the Overshoes and was soon in the garden. 
Here stood a plum tree and a pear tree. Even such a 
little garden as that is considered a great luxury in a 
large city. 

The student walked up and down the path. It was 
only six o’clock, and from the street outside sounded the 
horn of the mail coach. 

'‘Oh, travel! travel!” he burst out.' "That is the 
greatest happiness in the world! That is the best thing 
I could wish for! Then this restlessness I feel would be 
quieted. But I should want to travel very far away! I 
should like to see Switzerland, travel in Italy, and — ” 

Well, it was a good thing that the power of Overshoes 
worked immediately, otherwise he would have had to go 
through altogether too much — both for himself and for 
us. He traveled. He was in the middle of Switzerland, 
but packed inside of a carriage where there were eight 
others. He had a headache, a tired feeling in the back 
of his neck, and his blood had gone to his feet, which 
were swollen and squeezed by his shoes. He swayed 
between a half-waking and a half-dozing condition. In 
his pocket on the right side he carried his letters of 
credit, in his left-hand pocket his passport, and sewed 
tight in a little leather purse in his breast pocket were a 
number of louis 6! or. In every dream one or the other 
of these precious possessions was lost. Then he would 
start up feverishly and the first movement of his hand 
would be to describe a triangle, from right to left and up 
to his breast, to feel whether he had them or not. 

In the net above him swtmg umbrellas, canes, and 


256 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


hats, almost completely obscuring the impressive view. 
He looked through the window out of the corner of his 
eye, though with difficulty, while his heart sang what 
at least one poet in Switzerland has stmg but has not 
printed. 

Great, grave, and dark was all nature round about 
him. The pine forests looked like shrubs on those lofty 
cliffs, whose summits were hidden in mist. Now it 
began to snow, and the wind blew cold. 

''Huh!” he sighed, "if we were only on the other side 
of the Alps, then it would be summer and then I would 
have drawn some money on my letter of credit. The 
worry over that prevents me from enjoying Switzerland. 
Oh, how I wish I were on the other side!” 

And there he was on the other side, far on his way 
into Italy, between Florence and Rome. Lake Trasi- 
menes lay in the evening glow like flaming gold between 
the dark blue mountains. There, where Hannibal de- 
feated Flaminius, the grape vines clung peacefully to 
one another with twining Angers. Pretty, half-naked 
children guarded a herd of coal-black swine beneath a 
group of fragrant laurels by the wayside. Could we 
describe this picture accurately, all would delightedly 
cry, "Lovely Italy!” But that is not what the stu- 
dent of theology said, nor a single one of his traveling 
companions inside the Italian cabman’s vehicle. 

Poisonous flies and gnats flew in on them by the 
thousands. In vain they beat about them with myrtle 
branches. The flies bit them just the same. There 
was not a person in the carriage whose face was not 
swollen and discolored from bites and stings. The flies 
piled on the poor horses in heaps. The poor beasts 


FORTUNE’S OVERSHOES 


257 


looked like carcasses. It helped only for a moment 
when the driver got down and scraped them clean. The 
sim sank. A momentary chill went through all nature 
like a gust. It was not pleasant at all. But roimd 
about, the mountains and the clouds took on the most 
beautiful tints of green, oh, so very clear, so very shining. 
Oh, you must go yourself and see! That is better than 
reading a description! It was glorious! The travelers 
thought so, too; but their stomachs were empty, their 
bodies tired, and the one desire was to reach quarters 
for the night — how would the lodgings turn out? All 
were far more eager for a first sight of the stopping place 
than for a look at the beautiful scenery. 

The road led through an olive wood. It was just 
like driving at home between rows of gnarled willows. 
In the wood stood the solitary inn. Half a score of 
begging cripples had camped outside. The healthiest 
among them looked like ‘‘Hunger’s eldest son, who had 
come of age.” The others were blind, had withered 
legs and crawled on their hands, or withered arms with 
fingerless hands. It was misery itself, stripped of its 
rags. ‘‘Eccellenza, miserabili!” they whined, stretching 
out their diseased limbs. The hostess herself, with 
bare feet and uncombed hair, and dressed only in a 
dirty blouse, received the guests. The doors were tied 
together with twine. The floor was a pavement of 
bricks that had been half grubbed up. Bats flew about 
imder the ceiling — and the smell within! — 

‘‘If she would only lay the table down in the stable!” 
said one of the travelers. ‘‘There at least one knows 
what one is breathing!” 

The windows were opened, to let in a little fresh 
17 


258 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


air, and in came withered arms and the eternal wail, 
'‘Miserabili, Eccellenza!” On the walls were many 
inscriptions; half of them were of la hella Italia. 

The food was brought in. There was a soup of water, 
seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. The same kind of 
oil was on the lettuce. Spoiled eggs and roasted cocks’ 
combs were the main courses. Even the wine had an 
“off” taste. It was a regular poison dose. 

The trunks were piled up against the door for the 
night. One of the travelers kept watch while the others 
slept. The student of theology had the watch. Oh, 
how close it was in the room! The heat oppressed him, 
the gnats buzzed and stimg, the miserabili outside moaned 
in their sleep. 

“Traveling would be nice enough,” sighed the 
student, “if a person had no body. If that could only 
rest and the spirit fly! Wherever I go, there is something 
lacking, and that makes my heart heavy. What I want 
is not something that gives me momentary pleasure. 
I want something better. But where is it? What is 
it? I really do not know what I want. I want, finally; 
to reach a happy stopping-place, the happiest possible!” 

And as he uttered the words, he was at home. The 
long white curtains hung down over the window and in 
the middle of the floor stood a black coffin, and in it he 
lay in his quiet sleep of death. His wish was fulfilled. 
The body rested and the spirit was free to travel 
imencumbered. 

“Consider no one happy before he is in his grave,” 
were Solon’s words. Here they were proved anew. 

Every dead body is a riddle of the hereafter. Nor 
would this sphinx-like body here in the black coffin have 


FORTUNE'S OVERSHOES 


^59 

answered for us what the living man had written two 
days before: 

Thou strong, stern Death, thy silence waketh fear. 

The churchyard graves, thy footsteps’ only trace. 

The Jacob’s ladder which our minds uprear, — 

Shall it be broken? Shall our rising be in grass? 

The world oft little knows our deepest woe ! 

And thou whose life was lonely to the end. 

Much more the heart oppresses here below. 

Than the hard earth encompassing thy tomb. 

Two forms moved about in the room. We know them 
both: they were the fairies, Sorrow and the messenger 
of Fortime. They were bending over the dead. 

"'Do you see,” asked Sorrow, '‘what happiness your 
Overshoes have brought to mankind?” 

“They brought at least to him who is sleeping here 
a lasting good!” answered Happiness. 

“Oh, no!” Sorrow replied. “He went away of him- 
self, he was not called ! His spirit was not strong enough 
to lift the treasures which he felt he must lift! I will 
do him a favor!” 

She took the Overshoes from his feet. Then the 
sleep of Death was ended, and the awakened man arose. 

Sorrow disappeared, and with her the Overshoes. 
She must have considered them her own property. 


THE BRONZE BOAR 

In the city of Florence, not far from the Piazza del 
Granduca, nms a little side street; I think it is called 
Porta Rossa. On that street, in front of a market called 
the Mercato Nuevo, where vegetables are sold, is a well- 
modeled bronze boar. Fresh, clear water pours out of 
the mouth of the animal, which has become greenish 
black with age. Only the snout shines as if it were 
brightly polished, and, indeed, that it really is by the 
many hundred children and lazzaroni who take hold of 
it with their hands, and put their mouths to the animaPs 
snout to drink. It is a perfect picture to see the well- 
shaped creature, embraced by a handsome, half -naked 
boy who puts his fresh young lips to its mouth. 

Everyone who comes to Florence may find the place. 
He need only ask the first beggar he sees about the Bronze 
Boar, and he will find it. 

It was late one evening in winter. The mountains 
were covered with snow; but the moon was shining, and 
moonlight in Italy gives as much illumination as there 
is on a dark winter’s day in the North; yes, even more, 
for the air itself shines; the air is uplifting, while in the 
North the cold, gray, leaden day presses us down to the 
ground, the cold, wet groimd that some day is to press 
roimd our coffins. 

Over in the Grand Duke’s palace garden, under the 
pent-house roof where thousands of roses bloom in winter, 
a little ragged boy had been sitting all day long — a boy 
who might be the very picture of Italy, so pretty, so 
laughing, and yet so full of suffering. He was himgry 
260 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


261 


and thirsty. No one gave him a single penny, and when 
it grew dark and the garden was to be closed, the gate- 
keeper drove him away. He stood a long time on the 
bridge over the Amo, dreaming and looking at the stars, 
which gleamed in the water between him and the splendid 
marble bridge called della Trinitd. 

Then he set out on the way to the Bronze Boar. 
There he half knelt down, threw his arms about the 
animal’s neck, put his little mouth to its shining snout, 
and drank the fresh water in long, deep draughts. Close 
by lay some lettuce leaves and a few chestnuts, and these 
were his supper. There was not another soul on the 
street. The boy was alone. He seated himself on the 
Bronze Boar’s back, leaned forward, until his little curly 
head rested on the head of the animal, and, before he 
himself knew it, was soimd asleep. 

It was midnight. The Bronze Boar moved and the 
child heard it say distinctly: ** Little boy, hold tight, 
for now I am going to nm! ” And away it ran with him. 
It was a wonderful ride. First they came to the Piazza 
del Granduca, and there the metal horse which bears 
the statue of the Grand Duke neighed aloud. The 
many-colored coats-of-arms on the old council house 
shone like transparent pictures, and Michelangelo’s 
''David” swung his sling. It was a strange life that 
stirred about them. The bronze groups, "Perseus” and 
the "Rape, of the Sabines,” stood all too lifelike, and 
from this last group came a death shriek that rang over 
the beautiful, lonely square. 

At the Palazzo degli Uffizi, in the Arcade, where the 
nobility gathers during Lent for the joys of the Carnival, 
the Bronze Boar stopped running. 


262 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘Hold tight,” said the Boar, "hold tight, for now we 
are going up the stairs!” The little boy had not yet 
uttered a word; he was half trembling, half delighted. 

They stepped into a long gallery, which the boy knew 
well, for he had been there before. The walls were 
bright with pictures; here and there stood statues and 
busts, all in the loveliest Ught, as if it were day. But 
most splendid of all was when the door of one of the side 
rooms opened. The boy knew the great splendor that 
was there, but that night everything was at the very 
height of loveliness. 

Here stood a beautiful, unclothed woman, possessing 
beauty such as only nature and the greatest masters of 
marble could produce. She moved her beautiful limbs; 
at her feet dolphins leaped; immortality shone out of her 
eyes. The world calls her the Venus de Medici. On 
both sides of her were marble statues, whom the breath 
of life had entered. They were beautiful, unclothed 
men. One of them was sharpening a sword — The 
Grinder he is called. The Wrestling Gladiators formed 
the other group. While the sword was being sharpened, 
the gladiators contended for the Goddess of Beauty. 

The boy was dazzled by the splendor. The walls 
shone with color, and everything was fiill of life and 
movement. The picture of Venus appeared double; it 
was the earthly Venus, glowing with life and passion, 
whom Titian had held to his heart — two beautiful 
women, their lovely, tmveiled limbs extended on soft 
cushions, their breasts heaving, their heads moving, 
their long, thick locks falling on their round white 
shoulders, the dark eyes telling the impetuous thoughts 
within. But none of the figures dared step out of the 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


263 


frame entirely. The Goddess of Beauty, the Gladiators, 
and the Grinder remained in their places, for the glory 
which shone from the Madonna, Jesus, and John held 
them immovable. The holy pictures were no longer 
pictures; they were the holy ones themselves. 

What grandeiu* and what beauty in every room! 
And the little boy saw everything, for the Bronze Boar 
went step by step through all the splendor in that palace 
of delight. Each sight was so wonderful it. made one 
forget all the others, and just one picture fixed itself 
firmly in the boy’s mind, and that one chiefly because 
of the joyful, happy children that were in it. The 
little boy had once nodded to them by daylight. 

Many people pass quickly by this picture; and yet 
it has in it much poetry. Jesus is seen descending into 
the Underworld; but it is not tortured souls we see about 
him. The heathen are there. The Florentine, Angelo 
Bronzino, painted the picture. Particularly wonderful 
is the expression of the children in their certainty that 
they will go to heaven. Two little ones already embrace 
each other; one child stretches his hand to another below 
him and points to himself as if saying: “I am going to 
heaven!” All the older persons stand uncertain, hoping, 
or bow themselves humbly before the Saviour in prayer. 

At that picture the boy looked longer than at any 
other. The Bronze Boar rested quietly before it. A 
soft sigh was heard. Did it come from the picture or 
from the Bronze Boar’s breasl^? The boy lifted his hand 
toward the smiling children; then the animal hurried 
away with him out through the open vestibule. 

^'Thanks, and blessings upon you, dear creature!” 
said the little boy and patted the Bronze Boar, which 


264 ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 

with a blimp, bump, sprang down the stairs with him. 

‘‘Thanks, and blessings upon you," said the Bronze 
Boar. “I have helped you, and you have helped me, 
for only with an innocent child on my back have I the 
power to run. Yes, I dare even go imder the rays of 
the lamp in front of the Madonna picture. I can carry 
you everywhere, except into the church! but from with- 
out, when you are with me, I may look in at the open 
door! Do not get off my back. If you do I shall be 
dead just as you see me in the daytime in Porta Rossa!" 

“I will stay with you, you good, kind animal!" said 
the little one. And then away they went, whizzing 
through the streets of Florence, out to the square before 
the church of Santa Croce! 

The great folding doors flew open, the lights upon 
the altar shone through the church and out upon the 
lonely square. 

An unearthly light streamed from the tomb monu- 
ment in the left aisle; thousands of moving stars seemed 
to form a halo about it. A coat-of-arms gleamed on the 
tomb — a red ladder on a blue grotmd. It seemed to 
glow like fire. The tomb was Galileo's. The monu- 
ment is a simple one, but the red ladder on the blue 
grotmd is a significant device. It is as if it were the 
device of art itself, for the path of Art is up a burning 
ladder, but it leads to heaven. All the prophets of the 
spirit go to heaven, as did the prophet Elias of old. 

In the aisles to the right, every sculptured figure on 
the rich sarcophagi seemed warm with life. Here stood 
Michelangelo, there Dante — with the laurel wreath 
round his brow — Alfieri, and Machiavelli. Here these 
great men rest side by side — the pride of Italy. It is 



There stood Bellissima 


Page 270 








THE BRONZE BOAR 265 

a splendid church, and though not so large as the marble 
Cathedral of Florence, far more beautiful 

It seemed as if the marble garments moved; as if 
the great statues raised their heads higher, and amid 
singing and organ music looked up toward the radiant, 
colored altar where white-clad boys swung golden cen- 
sers. A strong odor of incense floated from the church 
out into the open square. 

The boy stretched his hand toward the glow of light, 
and in the same instant the Bronze Boar rushed away. 
He had to cling tightly to it, and the wind whistled about 
his ears. He heard the church doors creak on their 
hinges as they closed, but at that moment his con- 
sciousness seemed to leave him; he felt icy cold, and 
opened his eyes. 

It was morning. He sat halfway slipped from the 
back of the Boar, which stood where it had always stood 
in the Porta Rossa. 

Fear and anxiety filled the boy's mind at thought of 
his mother, who had sent him out yesterday and told 
him to get money. He had none. He was hungry and 
thirsty! Once again he put his arm aroimd the Bronze 
Boar's neck, kissed its snout, and nodded to it. Then he 
wandered off into one of the narrowest streets, which is 
just wide enough for a heavily-laden donkey to pass. A 
large iron-studded door stood half open. Through this 
he went, and up a stone stairway, with dirty walls and 
a smooth rope for a balustrade, until he came to an open 
gallery hung with rags. A stair led from this place to 
the yard in which there was a well. Large iron cables 
stretched from the well to every story of the house, and 
water buckets dangled side by side. When the roller 


266 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


creaked and the buckets danced in the air the water 
splashed out. Another tumbled-down brick stairway 
led farther up. Down this stair two Russian sailors 
came running, and almost knocked the poor boy down. 
They came from their nightly carousal. A large woman, 
no longer yoimg, with thick black hair, followed after 
them. 

'‘What have you brought home?” she asked the boy. 

“Don’t be angry,” he pleaded. “I have nothing, 
nothing at all!” and he seized his mother’s dress as if 
he would have kissed it. 

Then they went inside. In the room they entered 
stood a jar with handles, filled with live coals; marito, 
it is called. This the mother took on her arm and warmed 
her fingers. Then she pushed the boy with her elbow. 
“Of course you’ve got money!” she said. 

The child wept. She struck him with her foot. 
Then he cried out loudly. 

“Will you be quiet, or must I break your screaming 
head to pieces!” and she swimg the brazier that she held 
in her hand. The child crouched on the floor with a 
scream. Just then a neighbor woman stepped in at the 
door. She, too, had her marito on her arm. 

“Felicita! WTiat are you doing with the child!” 

“The child is mine!” answered Felicita. “I can kill 
it if I want to and you too, Giannina,” and she swimg 
her brazier again. The other raised hers in defense and 
the two pots clashed together so hard that fire and ashes 
flew about the room. 

But the boy was out at the door in that instant, 
across the courtyard, and out of the house. The poor 
child ran till he was completely out of breath. He 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


267 


stopped at the Santa Croce Church, the church whose 
great doors had opened to him the night before, and 
went in. Everything was radiant. He moved to the 
right and knelt at the first tomb. It was Michelangelo’s, 
and soon he was sobbing aloud. People came and went, 
mass was said, but no one paid any attention to the boy. 
Only one elderly citizen stopped and looked at him — 
and then went on as the others had done. 

The child was so hungry and thirsty he could hardly 
walk. He felt very weak and sick. He crept into a 
comer between the wall and the tomb and fell asleep. 
Toward evening he was awakened by some one shaking 
him. He started up and before him he beheld the same 
elderly citizen who had stopped to look at him earlier 
in the day. 

'^Are you ill? Where do you live? Have you been 
here all day?” were a few of the many questions the old 
man asked him. He answered them, and the old man 
took him to a little house close by in one of the side 
streets. It was a glove-maker’s shop they entered. A 
woman sat working busily as they came in. A little 
white dog, with hair clipped so close that his pink skin 
was visible, jumped up on the table and leaped about 
playfully before the little boy. 

” Innocent souls recognize one another,” said the 
woman and patted both the dog and the boy. The 
good people gave the himgry child food and drink, and 
said he should be permitted to stay there for the night. 
The next day Father Giuseppe — that was the glove- 
maker — would speak to his mother about him. They 
gave him a poor, tiny bed, but to one who often had 
slept on the hard stones, as he had, it seemed a royal 


268 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


couch. He slept well and dreamed about the wonderful 
pictures and the Bronze Boar. 

Next morning Father Giuseppe set out, and the poor 
child was very imhappy, for he knew that this departure 
was to bring him to his mother. He cried and kissed the 
pla3dul little dog, and the woman nodded approvingly 
at them both. 

And what did Father Giuseppe find out? He talked 
a long time with his wife, and she nodded and caressed 
the boy. “He is a lovely child!” she said. “What a 
handsome glove-maker he can grow to be — just like 
you! And his fingers are so fine and limber. The 
Madonna has intended him for a glove-maker!” 

So the boy remained at the house, and the wife herself 
taught him to sew. He ate well and slept well, and he 
grew merry. One day he teased Bellissima — that was 
the dog’s name — and the woman was angry — shook 
her finger at him, and scolded. The rebuke went to the 
boy’s heart, and he sat thoughtfully in his little room, 
which had windows on the street. In that room the 
glove-skins were dried. There were thick iron bars over 
the windows. The boy tried to go to sleep but could not. 
He was thinking of the Bronze Boar, and suddenly he 
heard a soimd outside, “Pit-a-pat!” Why, that must 
be it! He ran to the window, but there was nothing 
to be seen, and the noise had ceased. 

“Help the gentleman carry his box of colors!” said 
the woman to the boy next morning, as a yoimg artist, 
their neighbor, went by carrying his box and a large roll 
of canvas. 

The child took the box and followed the painter. 
They walked toward the Gallery, and went up the stair 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


269 


he knew so well — the stair up which he rode one night 
on the Bronze Boar’s back. He recognized the statues, 
and the pictures, the beautiful marble Venus, and the 
figures that lived in colors. He saw again the Saviour’s 
mother, and Jesus and John. 

Now the two halted before the picture by Bronzino, 
representing Jesus descending to the Underworld with 
children about him, smiling in the sweet certainty of 
heaven. The poor child smiled, too, for there he was 
in a heaven of his own. 

'‘Go home, now!” said the painter, when the boy 
remained until he had raised his easel. 

"May I watch you paint?” said the boy. "May I 
see how you put a picture on that white canvas?” 

"I am not painting yet!” answered the man. He 
took his crayon. His hand moved quickly; he measured 
the great picture with his eye, and though it was just a 
thin line that appeared, there stood the Christ as in the 
colored picture. 

"But now you must go!” said the painter. The boy 
walked slowly homeward, seated himself on the table, 
and — learned to sew gloves. 

But all day his thoughts were in the picture gallery, 
and consequently he pricked his fingers and was awkward 
with his work; but he did not tease Bellissima. When 
evening came, the street door being open, he slipped 
outside. It was chilly, but the sky was bright with 
beautiful gleaming stars. He wandered through the 
streets, which were now quiet and deserted, and soon he 
was standing before the Bronze Boar. He leaned over 
it and kissed its shining snout. Then he seated himself 
on its back. 


270 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


'‘You good creature,” he said, "how I have longed 
for you! We must go riding to-night!” 

The Bronze Boar remained motionless and the fresh 
water ran sparkling from its mouth. The little boy sat 
like a rider. Then something tugged at his clothes. He 
looked down, and there beside him stood Bellissima — 
the little close-clipped Bellissima. The dog had slipped 
out of the house and had followed the child without his 
noticing it. He barked as if to say, "See, here I am with 
you. Why do you sit there?” No fiery dragon could 
have frightened the boy more than the little dog in that 
place. Bellissima — on the street, and without being 
dressed, as the old wife called it! What would happen! 
The dog was never allowed to go out in winter unless 
dressed in a little sheepskin coat, cut out and sewed 
especially for it. The skin could be tied with a red ribbon 
around the neck. There were bows and bells on it, and 
it was also tied fast imder the animal. The dog looked 
almost like a little kid, when in winter, dressed in that 
garb, it was allowed to take a walk with the Signora. 
Bellissima was out with him now with nothing on! 
What would come of it? All his fancies took flight, but 
he kissed the Bronze Boar and picked up Bellissima 
in his arms. The animal was shaking with cold, and 
therefore the boy ran as fast as he could. 

"What are you running with there?” shouted two 
policemen he met. Bellissima barked. 

"Where did you steal that fine dog?” they asked, 
taking it away from him. 

"Oh, give it back!” wailed the boy. 

"If you have n’t stolen it, you can say at home that 
the dog can be sent for at the station!” They told 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


271 


him where it was and away they went with Bellissima. 

It was a moment of despair and lamentation. He did 
not know whether to jump into the Amo or to go home 
and confess everything. 

'*They will surely kill me/' he thought. ‘'But I will 
gladly be killed; then I will go to Jesus and the Ma- 
donna!" So he went home, chiefly for the purpose of 
being killed. 

The door was locked. He could not reach the 
knocker, and there was no one in the street. But a 
loosened stone lay there, and with this he hammered on 
the door. 

“Who is it?" they shouted within. 

“It is I!" he said. “Bellissima is gone! Open the 
door and kill me!" 

There was a panic of fright and anxiety, especially 
on the part of the wife, for the poor Bellissima! She 
looked instantly over to the wall where the dog’s dress 
usually hung. The little lambskin was there. 

^“Bellissima at the station!" she cried loudly. “You 
wicted child! How did you get him out! He will 
freeze to death. That fine, delicate creature among 
the rough soldiers!" 

The old man had to start out at once! The woman 
wailed and the boy wept! All the people in the house 
came in, the painter among them. He took the boy 
between his knees and asked him all about it. He heard 
the whole story, though broken and disconnected, about 
the Bronze Boar and the Gallery. It wasn’t easy to 
imderstand. The painter consoled the little boy, and 
talked soothingly to the old woman. But she kept on 
lamenting until the old man returned with Bellissima, 


2^2 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


who had been among the soldiers. Then there was great 
rejoicing. The painter patted the little boy’s head, and 
gave him a handful of pictures. 

Oh, they were so splendid — such comical heads! 
But best of all, there was one of the Bronze Boar itself, 
lifelike and beautiful! Could anything be more glorious! 
There it was in just a few lines, drawn on the paper; 
and even the house behind it was sketched in. 

Oh, if one coiild only draw and paint he could get 
the whole world for himself! 

The next day, the first moment he found himself with 
nothing to do, the little boy seized a pencil and on the 
back of one of the pictures tried to copy the drawing 
of the Bronze Boar; the drawing was a little crooked; 
one leg was thick and the other thin. But still it could 
be recognized, and he himself rejoiced over it! He 
noticed, however, that the pencil did not want to go as 
straight as it should. But the next day another Bronze 
Boar stood beside the first, and this was a hundred 
times better. The third was so good that any one could 
recognize it. 

But the glove-making went badly, and errands to 
town were not quickly performed. For the Bronze 
Boar had taught him that all picttures could be trans- 
ferred to paper; and the city of Florence is a complete 
picture book if one will just turn the pages to see. On 
the Piazza della Trinity is a slender column, and on the 
top of it stands the Goddess of Justice with blind-folded 
eyes and scales in her hands. 

The goddess soon appeared on paper, and it was the 
glove-maker’s little boy who had put her there. The 
collection of pictures grew larger, but ever3rthing in it 


THE BRONZE BOAR 


273 

was still of lifeless objects. Then one day as the boy 
sketched, Bellissima ran, playing, in front of him. 

“Stand still !“ he said. “Then you shall become 
beautiful and be one of my pictures!’' But Bellissima 
would not stand still and so he had to be tied, head and 
tail. The dog barked and tried to jump and the rope 
had to be tightened. Just then the Signora appeared. 

“You wicked, wicked boy! The poor creature!” was 
all she could say. She thrust the boy aside, kicked him, 
and drove him out of the house, calling him an tmgrateful 
good-for-nothing and a wicked child! And weeping, 
ske kissed her little half-strangled Bellissima. 

Just then the painter came up the stairs and — here 
is the turning-point in the story. 

There was an exhibition in the Art Academy of 
Florence in the year of 1834. Two paintings placed 
side by side drew a large number of spectators. In 
the smallest picture a merry little boy sat drawing. The 
model was a little white, close-clipped dog. The dog 
would not stand still, so he had been tied by the head 
and the tail. There was truth and life in this picture 
which could not but attract and interest everyone. The 
painter, it was said, was a young Florentine who had 
been found on the street when a little child. He had 
been brought up by an old glove-maker and had taught 
himself how to draw. A painter, now become famous, 
had discovered his talent when the boy had been driven 
out into the street because he had tied the Signora’s 
little pet dog to use as a model. 

The young glove-maker had become a great painter! 
This picture proved it, and still better, a larger picture 
which hung beside this one. In it there was just a single 
18 


274 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


figure, a ragged but beautiful boy, who sat sleeping on 
the street. He leaned against the Bronze Boar in the 
Porta Rossa. AU the spectators recognized the place. 
The child’s arms rested on the Boar’s head. The little 
one slept sotmdly, and the lamps by the Madonna picture 
cast a strong light on his pale, beautiful face. It was a 
splendid painting. A great gilded frame was round it, 
and in the comer of the frame was a laurel wreath. But 
among the green leaves was wound a black ribbon, and 
cr^pe himg down from it. 

The artist was l3dng, during those days, cold in death ! 


THE HAPPY FAMILY 


Of all green leaves that grow in onr country, the 
largest is certainly the burdock leaf. It is so very large 
that if you hold it in front of you, around your little 
waist, it is just like an apron; lay it on your head in 
rainy weather, and it is almost as good as an umbrella. 

A burdock never grows singly. Wherever one grows, 
many others are growing. It is really splendid — and 
all its splendor is food for snails. 

In olden days the grand, rich folk had the large 
white snails cooked and made into fricassee, and when 
they ate of it they said, ''Mm! how good that tastes!” 
for they really thought it was very delicious. These 
white snails lived on burdock leaves, and that is why the 
burdocks were planted. 

Now there was an old estate where snails were no 
longer eaten. The snails had died out almost entirely. 
But not the burdocks; they grew and grew, so luxuri- 
antly that they filled all the walks and all the flower beds. 

It was impossible to keep them down, and a whole 
forest of bmdocks covered the garden. Here and there 
stood an apple or a plum tree. Except for these one 
would never have believed that the place was a garden. 
Everything was burdocks — and there lived the two very 
last of the snails, two very, very old ones. 

They did not know how old they were, but they could 
remember distinctly that there had once been many 
more of their kind, that they were the descendants of a 
family from foreign lands, and that the whole forest had 
been planted for them and theirs. They had never been 


275 


276 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


outside, but they knew that there was something in the 
world which was called the manor house, and that there 
snails were cooked, that they turned black, and that 
then they were laid on a silver platter. But what 
happened afterwards they did not know. 

Moreover, just how it felt to be cooked and to lie on a 
silver platter they could not imagine. But it was said 
to be very pleasant, and particularly grand. Neither 
the beetle, nor the toad, nor the earthworm could give 
any information when they were asked about it. None 
of them had been cooked or laid on a silver platter. 

The old white snails were the most distinguished and 
the grandest persons in the world, that they knew; the 
forest existed on their account, and the manor house 
existed in order that they might be cooked and laid on a 
silver platter. 

They lived a very lonely, though happy, life. As 
they had no children, they had taken an ordinary little 
snail to raise, and had brought it up as their very own. 
But the little one did not grow, for he was one of the 
common kind. The old snails, however, and especially 
the mother snail, thought she could see now fast he was 
growing. If Father Snail could not see it, she would 
ask him to feel the little snail’s shell, and then he had to 
acknowledge that Mother Snail was right. 

One day it rained very hard. 

'‘Listen to the dnunming, rub-a-dub-dub, on the 
burdocks!” said Father Snail. 

‘‘Yes, and see the raindrops!” said Mother Snail. 
“The water is running right down the stalk! Things 
are going to be very damp here! I am glad that we have 
such good houses, and the little one also has his. More 


THE HAPPY FAMILY 


277 


has certainly been done for us than for all other creatures. 
It is plain to see that we are the grand folk of the world ! 
We have a house from the moment we are born, and the 
burdock forest was planted for om sake! I wish I knew 
how far it extends, and what lies beyond!’' 

'‘There is nothing beyond,” said Father Snail. “No 
place can be better than ours here at home, and I have 
nothing to wish for.” 

“But I have,” said Mother Snail; “I wish I could be 
taken up to the manor house, and cooked, and laid on a 
silver platter. That is what has been done to all our 
forefathers, and you may be sure there is something very 
distinguished about it!” 

“The manor house is very probably in ruins,” said 
Father Snail, “or the burdock forest may have grown 
over it so that the people cannot get out. But there is 
no need to be in such a hurry. You are always hurrying 
so, and the little one is beginning to be the same way. 
Has he not been crawling up that stalk for the last three 
days? It gives me a headache when I look up at him ! ” 

“Don’t scold,” said Mother Snail. “He crawls very 
slowly and carefully. He will be a great joy to us, and 
we old people have nothing else to live for! But have 
you ever given this any thought: where we shall get a 
wife for him? Don’t you think that somewhere within 
this burdock forest there may still be some of our kind?” 

“There are some black snails, I am sure,” said the old 
snail, “black snails without houses, but they are so 
common and so conceited! We might turn the matter 
over to the ants. They are always running about as if 
they had something to do. They must know of a wife 
for our little snail!” 


278 


ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES 


‘'We certainly do know the very loveliest of brides!” 
said the ants. “But we fear she would not do, for she is 
a queen.” 

“That does not matter,” said the old snail. “Has 
she a house?” 

“She has a castle,” said the ants, “the finest of ant 
castles, with seven htmdred passages!” 

“No, thank you!” said Mother Snail. “Our son 
shall not have to live in an ant hill! If you cannot sug- 
gest anything better, we will turn the matter over to the 
white gnats. They fiy about in sunshine or rain, and 
they know the burdock forest inside and out.” 

“We have a wife for him!” said the gnats. “A hun- 
dred man steps from here, on a gooseberry bush, sits a 
little snail with a house. She is quite alone, and old 
enough to be married. It is only a htmdred man steps 
from here!” 

“Yes, she will do; but she will have to come to him,” 
said the old snails. “He has a burdock forest, while she 
has only a bush!” 

So they sent for the little maiden snail. It was eight 
days before she arrived; but that was the nice thing 
about it, for by that one could see that she was truly one 
of the race. 

Then the wedding was celebrated. Six glowworms 
gleamed as brightly as they knew how. Otherwise things 
went very quietly, for the old snail folk could not stand 
dissipation and merry-making! But Mother Snail made 
a capital speech, for Father Snail was so agitated he could 
not talk. Then they gave the young couple the whole 
burdock forest for an inheritance, saying, as they had 
always said, that it was the best place in the world, and 


THE HAPPY FAMILY 


279 


if they lived an orderly and quiet life, and increased and 
multiplied, they and their children woiild some day be 
taken up to the manor house, boiled black, and laid on a 
silver platter. 

After that speech was finished the old snails crept 
into their houses and never came out again; for they slept. 
The young snail couple ruled in the forest, and had 
numerous descendants. But they were never boiled, 
and never put on a silver platter. From this they con- 
cluded that the manor had fallen into ruins, and that all 
people in the world were dead; and since no one contra- 
dicted them, they must have been right. The rain beat 
on the burdock leaves, just to make drum music for them, 
and the sun shone in order to fill the burdock forest with 
a glow of color for them, and they were very, very happy. 
The whole family was really very happy! 


THE BELL 


Often in the evening, just as the sun was setting and 
the clouds were gleaming like gold up between the tall 
chimneys, a curious soimd lilce the ringing of a distant 
church bell could be heard in the narrow streets of the 
great city. Sometimes this person would hear it, some- 
times that; but only for a moment, there was such a 
rumbling of wagons and such a disturbing clamor of 
voices. 

“That is the evening bell,” people would say. “The 
stm is just setting.” 

Those who went outside the city where the houses 
stood farther apart, and where there were gardens and 
little fields, saw a still more splendid stmset glow in the 
evening sky and heard far more clearly the ringing of the 
bell. The soimd seemed to come from a church far 
within the silent, fragrant forest. And people would 
look in that direction, and feel quite solemn. 

A long time passed, and people began to say one to 
the other; “I wonder if there is a church out yonder 
in the forest? That bell has such a strange, beautiful 
sotmd. We ought to take a trip out there and get a 
closer look at it.” 

So the rich people drove out and the poor people 
walked out. But the road seemed strangely long, and 
when the people reached a large grove of willows growing 
at the edge of the forest, they sat down and looked up 
among the long swaying branches, believing themselves 
really in the heart of the great wood. 

A confectioner came out from town and put up a 
280 


THE BELL 


281 


tent here; then came another confectioner, and this one 
hung a bell over his tent, a bell that was covered with a 
coat of tar so as to stand the rain, and without a clapper. 
When people returned to town they said that it had been 
so romantic, meaning something quite beyond a mere 
cup of tea. Three people declared that they had made 
their way into the forest right to its farthest edge, and 
that they had heard the strange bell all the time; but it 
seemed to them as if the sound had come from the city. 
One of them wrote a long poem about it in which he said 
that the bell sounded like the voice of a mother to a 
beloved child. No melody was sweeter than the sound 
of that bell. 

The emperor also heard of it, and promised that 
whoever could discover just where the soimd came from 
should receive the title of the “World’s Bell-Ringer,” 
even if there were no bell at all. 

A great many people now went to the woods for the 
sake of the high honor that had been offered, but there 
was only one who returned home with anything like an 
explanation. None of them had penetrated far enough 
into the forest, and neither had he. But he nevertheless 
said that the bell-like sound came from a very large owl 
in a hollow tree. It was a wise owl, which beat its head 
constantly against the tree, but whether the sound came 
from its head or from the hollow tree he could not as yet 
say with any certainty. Thereupon he was appointed 
World’s Bell-Ringer, and every year he wrote a little 
treatise about the owl. But nobody was any the wiser. 

Now, on a certain confirmation day, the minister 
had made a very beautiful and touching sermon. The 
young people who were to be confirmed had been deeply 


282 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


moved. It was an important day for them, for all at 
once from children they were to become grown people. 
The child sonl was, as it were, to fly over into a more 
responsible person. It was the brightest of sunny days, 
and after confirmation the young people walked out from 
the city. From the forest came the sound, wonderfully 
clear, of the great unknown bell. 

Immediately they all felt a strong desire to go there; 
all except three. One of these had to go home to try 
on her ball dress, for it was really because of that dress 
and that ball that she had been confirmed now; otherwise 
she would not have been permitted to go! The second 
was a poor boy who had borrowed his confirmation clothes 
and shoes from the landlord’s son, and had to return 
them at a certain hour. The third said that he never 
went to any strange place without his parents, that he had 
always been a good child, and would continue to be so 
now even after he had been confirmed. 

So these three did not go. The others trudged off. 
The sun shone and the birds sang, and the young people 
took each other by the hand and sang with them; for 
you see they had not yet received any offices, and were 
all yoxmg people on this day of their confirmation. 

Soon two of the youngest became tired and turned 
back to the dty. Two little girls sat down by the way 
and made wreaths. They too were left behind. When 
the others reached the willow grove where the con- 
fectioners lived they said: ‘‘Well, here we are! The 
bell, of course, really does not exist; it is only something 
people imagine!” 

Just at that moment, from somewhere deep in the 
forest, the bell soimded so sweetly and solemnly that 


THE BELL 


283 


four, five even, decided to go a little farther into the 
forest. The forest was dense and the undergrowth so 
thick that it was hard to make any progress. The 
anemones and the hyacinths grew rank, and the flowering 
convolvulus and the vines himg in long garlands from 
tree to tree. There the nightingale sang and the sim- 
beams played. Oh, it was very delightful! But it was 
no place for girls to go walking; their clothes would have 
been tom to shreds. Great bowlders lay scattered about, 
overgrown with moss of all colors. Springs of fresh water 
gurgled forth with a curious sotmd like ''kluk, kluk!" 

''Can that be the bell!’' said one of the yoimg people, 
lying down to listen. "This must be thoroughly looked 
into!” So he stayed and let the others go on. 

They came to a little hut built of bark and branches. 
A large crab-apple tree leaned over it as if about to shake 
its load of apples on the roof, which was covered with 
roses. The long branches lay right along the gable, 
on which there himg a little bell. Could this be the bell 
they had heard? All agreed that it was, all except one, 
and he said that the bell was too small and delicate to 
be heard so far away as they had heard it, and that the 
tones which moved the hearts of men were quite different 
from the tones of this bell. The one who spoke thus 
was a king’s son, and the others said, "A fellow like him 
always wants to be a little wiser than the rest.” So 
they let him go on alone. 

As the king’s son walked, the forest filled his breast 
with its deep solitude. But he still could hear the little 
bell with which the others were so pleased, and at times, 
when the wind came from the direction of the confec- 
tioner’s tent, he could also hear the call to tea. But the 


284 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


deep tones of the bell were stronger than these sounds, 
and it seemed as if an organ were playing with it. The 
sound came from the left, from the side where the heart 
is placed. 

There was a rustling in the bushes, and a little boy 
stood before the king’s son — a boy wearing wooden shoes, 
and a jacket so short that his wrists stuck far out of the 
sleeves. They knew each other, for the little boy was 
one of the three who had not started out with the others, 
the poor boy who had to go home to return the coat 
and shoes to the landlord’s son. He had done this, and 
then, wearing wooden shoes and shabby clothes, he had 
started out alone; for the deep, strong notes of the bell 
drew him on. 

Then we can go together! ” said the king’s son. But 
the poor boy in the wooden shoes was too bashful. He 
pulled at his short coat sleeves, and said that he was 
afraid he could not walk fast enough. Besides, he 
believed that the bell was to be found to the right, for 
all things great and splendid had a place to the right. 

''Well, then, we will not meet at all,” said the king’s 
son, nodding to the poor boy, who walked away into the 
darkest and densest part of the forest, where the thorns 
tore his shabby clothes to tatters and scratched his face 
and hands and feet till they bled. The king’s son also 
got some deep scratches, although the sun shone along 
his pathway. He was a bright little chap, and he is the 
one we will accompany. 

"I will and must find the bell,” he said, "even if I 
have to go to the end of the world for it!” 

The ugly monkeys sat in the treetops, grinning and 
showing all their teeth. 


THE BELL 285 

'‘Let us pelt him!” they cried. “Let us pelt him! 
He is the king's son!” 

But he went blithely on, deeper and deeper into 
the forest, where grew the most extraordinary flowers. 
There were white star-like lilies with blood-red streamers, 
sky-blue tulips, which glittered as they swayed in the 
wind; apple trees where hung apples that looked exactly 
like great shining soap bubbles. Just think how those 
trees must have glistened in the sunshine! 

Around the edges of beautiful green meadows, where 
stags and hinds gamboled in the grass, grew great, splen- 
did oaks and beech trees. Wherever the bark was broken 
and cracked, long grasses and vines grew. There were 
also great forest glades and quiet little lakes where 
white swans swam about and stretched their great 
white wings. The king's son often stopped and listened. 
Often he thought that the sotmd of the bell came up to 
him from one of these deep lakes. But then when he 
listened again he was quite sure that it was not there, 
but farther still within the forest. 

Now the sun was sinking, the sky gleamed red as 
Are, and a deep, deep stillness came over the forest. 
The king's son sank to his knees, sang his evening psalm, 
and said: “Never will I And what I am seeking! The 
sun is setting; the dark night is coming on. But perhaps 
I can once more see the round red sun, before it sinks 
below the earth. I will climb up those rocky heights 
yonder. They rise as high as the highest of the trees!” 

He seized the vines and roots and clambered up the 
wet stones, where the water snakes wriggled and the 
toads seemed to bark at him. But he reached the top 
before the sun had set entirely. Seen from that height, 


286 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES 


oh, what splendor met his gaze! The sea, the vast, 
wonderful sea, stretched before him, its long waves 
tumbling against the shore. The sim stood like a great 
shining altar far away where sea and sky met. Every- 
thing melted together in a bright glow of color; the forest 
sang, and the ocean sang, and he sang with them. All 
nature was a great holy temple, in which the trees and 
the swaying clouds were the pillars, flowers and grass 
a woven tapestry of velvet, and the sky itself the great 
dome. Far on high the red colors vanished as the sun 
went down, but millions of stars gleamed out like millions 
of diamond lamps, and the king’s son stretched his arms 
toward the sky, toward the sea and the forest, — and at 
that moment, from the right, came the poor boy with the 
wooden shoes and the short sleeves. He had reached 
the same place by his road. They ran to meet each 
other, and held each other’s hands in the great temple 
of natture and poetry. And over them soimded the 
invisible holy bell. Glorious spirits swayed about it, 
singing a joyous Hallelujah! 



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